Where's Koszalin? Teaching English Abroad

By Carol Vialogos

Join a mature woman’s journey first year teaching English. The writer says, 'this is the book I would have loved to read before I began my teaching journey overseas.' Single with an empty nest seeking adventure and travel; teaching English in foreign lands seemed exciting. Was it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carol Vialogos
• Release date: Jun 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9780968199855

Carol Vialogos

During my time in Greece I've finished three books. I wrote a screenplay before I began the novel of The Movie Murders which was born during a conversation with the real Kostas who owned my neighborhood DVD rental store. I have lived in the large multinational cities of Los Angeles, Toronto (born there) and Vancouver this has colored my opinion of immigrants and their struggles to fit in and now as a Canadian expatriate living in Europe since 2002 I too feel the alienation.

Book preview

Where's Koszalin? Teaching English abroad

C Vialogos

Copyright C Vialogos 2013

Published at Smashwords

ISBN: 978-0-9681998-5-5

Acknowledgements

Special thanks goes to all the people I met during this first year in Poland. I'm very grateful to Jo my DOS at the school in Koszalin. Without her taking a chance on this new teacher and giving me my first job teaching overseas this book would not exist. Possible I may have ended up in another country, and never had this wonderful experience. I also appreciate Syl and Katia for taking the time to read this book and encourage me to publish it.

Chapter 1 The Adventure Begins

Chapter 2 Are We There Yet?

Chapter 3 The Poseidon Adventure

Chapter 4 Adjusting To Teaching

Chapter 5 The President's High-school

Chapter 6 It Could Have Been Me

Chapter 7 Friends in Coal Places

Chapter 8 Saints and Holidays

Chapter 9 Doors, Doors, Doors

Chapter 10 Solidarity Amber in Gdansk-Gold From The Baltic

Chapter 11 All I Want For Christmas Is...

Chapter 12 Hey, Where's the fire?

Chapter 13 Take Me Out To the Movies

Chapter 14 All Aboard The Night Express To Budapest

Chapter 15 These Boots Are Made For Walking

Chapter 16 Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Chapter 17 Dragons and Drunks

Chapter 18 You’ve Got Mail

Chapter 19 Can I Have A Coffee With That Donut?

Chapter 20 The White Horse Dancer

Chapter 21 The Lonely Couch Potato

Chapter 22 Emails and Keyboards

Chapter 23 Teachers Rock And Roll

Chapter 24 No News Is Good News

Chapter 25 Helping Friends Decide

Chapter 26 What Page Am I On?

Chapter 27 Koszalin Training Day

Chapter 28 Those Who Can't - Teach

Chapter 29 All Good Things Must Come To an End

Chapter 30 There's No Place Like Home???

Chapter 31 Tricks of The Trade

CHAPTER 1 THE ADVENTURE BEGINS

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure. - Helen Keller (1880 –1968)

Victoria Station was utter madness, wall to wall people, all pushing toward their bus door. No order! No system! Was this really London, England the land of the civilized Brit, the city famous for its polite calmness and queuing-up. Not here, not instead was the insanity of hundreds of Polish people, with their miles of luggage searching for their bus. Lined up were Eurolines, National Express and other buses I had never heard of, each driving off to a different corner of Poland. It was total chaos with everyone pushing towards the door of the bus to validate their ticket and receive a tag to label their suitcases. Once labelled the bags were placed in the belly of the bus, placed in order of your destination.

This frenzied environment added to my already confused state. Where was the British composure and order when I really needed it? Was this a snap shot of what I could expect in Poland? All you could hear was Polish. It was hard to believe we were in London, and not transported into a bus station in Poland. To make matters worse the bus drivers did not speak a word of English. What a nightmare for a foreigner like me. These buses were not quite the luxury air-conditioned coaches you would expect for a twenty hour plus trip, most were obliviously older buses which had seen better days.

At this point you might be asking yourself, Why in the world is she taking a bus to Poland not flying? Well, the city where I was going to teach English for nine months is called Koszalin. Koszalin is located in the north Poland, about halfway between Germany and Gdansk. It is not near any major city or ever close to a city with an airport. It is however, very close to the Baltic Sea. If you look on an atlas or search on the Internet you will find just where Koszalin is located. This was what I did when I was looking for a job. It seemed promising on a map. So close to the Baltic Sea and all.

Here is a bit of history of the city, but I promise there will not be too much history, as this is really my story. Koszalin became a city in 1266, and at the end of the Thirty Years’ War in 1648 it was under the control of the German state of Brandenburg, which became a part of Prussia in 1701. Toward the end of World War II (1939-1945) Koszalin was occupied by Russia troops, and was almost totally destroyed during the fight between the Soviets and the Germans. The post-war Potsdam Agreement appointed Koszalin to Poland in 1945.

That's enough history for now; all you need to know is that this city of about 130,000 was easier to get to by bus than plane. Believe it or not the most direct route from London to Koszalin is this long bus trip (about 24 hours). It is also much cheaper than flying, and there was the problem of traveling with my oversized bags. Storing your bags below the bus you may have to pay a bit more, but it will be about one tenth the amount of over charges from flying. So, here I was with the hordes of Poles going back to their homeland, after working the summer in England, others going back to school or visiting family. Personally, I have always enjoyed long bus trips. They can be relaxing with lots of time to read, listen to music, or just stare out the window, daydream and think. There are always frequent stops, when you can stretch your legs or go to the washroom and grab a snack. If the bus driver is a smoker we always stop more often.

Maybe you're still wondering, But why Poland? Let me take you back to August 2001 when a friend invited me to a presentation on teaching English overseas. In a downtown Vancouver Hotel conference room, was this enthusiastic young man who gave a slide show and talk about teaching English in Taiwan. His description of working with little Taiwanese kids made an instance impression on me. It was one of those life changing moments, and I found myself thinking, I could do that! With my background of early education plus other teaching experience this was totally possible. After listen to him, I was definitely hooked. The rest of that year was spent researching this field of work that was completely new to me.

Vancouver is full of foreign students who come from different countries, and many spend up to a full year learning English in one of the numerous language schools. Because I was not sure if teaching English was for me, or if I could stand being around people who do not speak the same language as me for more than a few minutes, I decided to seek out an agency that placed students in your home. In September a young male Korean student moved into my son's old room. As it turned out we got along marvellously and he stayed with me for six months. After having this first-hand experience it was now clear to me, this was definitely something I would love doing.

In March 2002 my one month TESL training began as well as the search for jobs both in Vancouver and overseas. Searching for positions overseas is not difficult as there are numerous websites where English (TEFL) jobs are posted in all corners of the world. Often these languages schools stipulate only experienced teachers need apply. Because this was my first year teaching, I was somewhat limited to where I could teach, however, Poland at that time was very open to first year teachers. They may have had their eye on the future when they would join the European Union and would need English. But at that time coming from Canada, what did I know about this thing called the European Union? It means little to most Canadians.

One posting I found was for a city called Koszalin and when I saw that it was so close to the Baltic Sea, it became even more attractive as a place to teach. When I was called for a phone interview about teaching in Koszalin it turned out my future boss was a fellow Canadian, from Halifax. How could I not take this job?

Now, that I had a destination I had to obtain a visa from the small Polish consulate in downtown Vancouver. To get a Polish visa I needed an officially stamped letter from the school where I would be working. Two weeks after receiving the letter my Polish visa was stamped into my Canadian passport.

Some of my Canadian friends were shocked, yet impressed and said, Carol you are so courageous and brave. The ones who said nothing probably thought I had lost my mind. Leaving the comfort and safety of my secure housing in Vancouver, Canada was not an easy decision to make. When people found out where I was headed some were envious as they had always wanted to visit Krakow or Warsaw. But Poland had never been on my personal wish list of places to visit. At least one person pointed out, Carol, don't forget to pack lots of bars of soap and extra warm socks. She expected very cold weather with no central heating in the houses, and few stores where I could buy nice soft soap or tissues. After all I was heading into a former communist country. Were they right? Should I be nervous or frightened? To make things even scarier my flight left on 11 September, one year to the day of the famous event in New York City. My flight was to London, where my son was living at the time so I was combining a brief visit with him before my Polish adventure began. My next door neighbour and friend Shannon ended up driving me to the airport but that was not my first plan. My first plan was to take a taxi to the airport. When the cap arrived I headed downstairs with my huge, overstuffed suitcase, brimming with nine months of clothes and teaching supplies. On the way to the street the zipper on my also full backpack broke, and out flew the contents. Yelling to the cabby, Wait, please! I'll be just a moment! As I hurried into my apartment Shannon surfaced and said, Don't be silly! I’ll drive you to the airport. When I cancelled the taxi, the driver looked less than pleased. Quickly I threw my stuff into my small suitcase with the wheels and tossed my old backpack into the closet and off I rushed with Shannon. As independent as I am, it was nice to be seen off by someone.

At the check-in counter at the Vancouver airport, I discovered my luggage was overweight and it cost me an extra $100 Canadian dollars. I swore that next time I'd pack less. Settled in the boarding area there was loads of time to enjoy my last Canadian beer. Sipping my Kokanee, I glanced at my boarding pass to see which gate was mine. It was gate 54 my age. I smiled. Maybe this is a good omen. An Iranian man working in the cafe began to chat with me. He had been in Canada for over 50 years, yet still had a very strong accent. Now it was 20 minutes until boarding time. My seat number was 16C. Again I thought, A good omen C for Carol. On my little notepad I wrote a tip for airport trips to buy a backpack with wheels or flight size suitcase. Wheels on my carry-on would sure make it easier to navigate the miles we are forced to walk from one end of airports to the other.

My flight left at 3:20, it is now 2:30, we have still not boarded. Then finally I heard the boarding call. The flight was excellent because the seat beside remained empty the whole time. On the window seat sat a young British girl who listened to music or slept most of the flight. They played two movies, About a Boy which I had seen and the other I hadn’t seen, but the name escapes me now.

At Heathrow airport there was a long line for the International passports but few passengers were standing in the European or EU line. The good looking English man at the counter asked the usual questions, business or pleasure and where was I staying while in London. With my son I told him. Then he asked, does your son know you are coming? What an odd question, I thought. Do people surprise their family all the time or what? Yes, I was not travelling straight to Poland but stopping off to visit my son in London. It had been over a year since I had seen him. And who knew when we would get an opportunity to be together again. The decision to go to Poland was partly because of him. After all Poland was closer to London than Canada.

Collecting my bags at Heathrow was not too much of a hassle with the airport carts. At the information counter I asked about the Thames Link Train to Kings Cross. Then I bought a ticket and called my son Cliff, he would be there to meet me on the Kings Cross platform.

Transporting my massive bags to the underground was tricky with only stairs or escalators, so I was relieved when a nice woman helped me. London’s tube and trains are a hassle even without gigantic luggage like mine. There were no elevators anywhere to be found. When standing on the platform, of course I did not know which side to catch the train to Kings Cross, so I asked a nice looking business man. I found people in London were very helpful. This surprised me as my son had told me that Londoners were not very friendly, or helpful. He had been living in London for a few years; maybe my age was an advantage. When I stepped from the train, happily my son Cliff was standing there to assist me.

TIP: Less bags next time. I will see how much of this stuff I really needed to bring.

We got a cab to his girlfriend’s flat and then, he went off to work. The jet lag was kicking in so a short nap was very welcome. Cliff returned around 6 pm and we had a drink and went to Soho for Indian food. It would be the last real authentic Indian; I would have in a long time. Cliff's girlfriend seemed very nice and we had a good time chatting together. The next day was Friday and some sightseeing was in order with a visit to the London Museum. It was strange walking around London after all these years. The last time I was in London was in the early 80's, boy had it changed. And not for the better, I'm afraid.

When I returned to the flat there was a friend of theirs just back from South Africa. We all had dinner and went out for a drink, at a very noisy pub which had been newly renovated and was very modern. This was a disappointment to me as I was looking forward to seeing an old traditional English pub. You know the ones, with lots of wood and old items decorating the walls, old plates, pictures and artifacts from another time. London was moving with the times to accommodate the young people who no longer appreciated the past, tradition or history. We stood outside with our beers. Then it was time for the pub to close. Cliff and his friends were off to a house party and I returned to the flat to unpack a few things.

When unpacking I realized to my horror that I was missing some very important papers. Boy did I feel like an idiot. In a panic I ran to the computer to contact all the people I could think of in Vancouver and sent emails asking for help. The first email went to the woman subletting my apartment, then Shannon my helpful neighbour and another friend who lived close by, then all I could do was wait. It was extremely hard to relax until the yellow folder with my papers was found and arrangements made to have them sent to me. Among the papers was the letter from the school in Poland agreeing to hire me, my criminal record check from the Vancouver police and some tax information. Several emails later my friends in Vancouver tracked down the documents. They were in that backpack that broke which I had thrown into the hall closet. Thank heaven for friends and email. They assured me that my valuable papers would be sent immediately to Cliff's work.

On Saturday my son had to do some work so I went off with his girlfriend. The sun had been shining since I arrived and London. Of course this is rainy London and it is not like this all the time. We strolled along the Thames River. We got lucky as there was a festival with music, and stands selling handmade crafts and other one-of-a-kind items to buy. We stopped to listen to a band then decided to visit the Tate Museum. All in all, it was a wonderful day exploring London.

When we returned to the flat there was an email that Shannon had FedExed the papers. What a relief. Now I could really enjoy London. The rest of my visit flew by as holidays usually do. Now it was time to leave the security and ease of an English speaking country and venture off to the unknown. A new door was opening and what wonders were to be discovered on the other side was anyone’s guess.

All buses to Poland leave from Victoria Station, and my coach left at 8 am so it was an early rising for Cliff and me. So there I was in this mini Poland in Victoria Station. Saying good bye to my son and ready to sit back, stretch out and relax. My bus was not full and I had a seat all to myself. I thought, This will be quite nice, I'll be able to curl up and sleep when it gets dark. Or will I?

Everyone told me to pass on Speed because it was a 'bus movie.' Sandra Bullock (American Actress (Speed)

CHAPTER 2 ARE WE THERE YET?

I'd rather go by bus. - Prince Charles

It takes forever to get out of London, the sparing metropolis that it has become. Finally, we arrived at the famous tunnel to France. Some people may worry about being in a tunnel under all that water, and if you stopped to think about it, it is a bit scary. Interesting how we put our trust into architecture, when