Should I Stay or Should I Go?

People are always asking me about when I'm coming home; everyone seems to want to know when I'll be back for good. And I don't know the answer to that question.

I definitely live the easy life here in Zamorano, and one of the benefits of living this life is that it highlights all the things I don't like about life in the United States.

I was reading Brave New World with one of my sixth graders a few weeks ago, and I was struck by the philosophy of this new society whereby everyone is kept so busy that there is no time for thought or dissent or, really, for anything different. I feel like that trap is all over the US (and probably many developed countries), but it's so invisible, so omnipresent, that we don't even see it--we don't even realize that we're always working or thinking about work, or going shopping for something new that we "need," or trying to keep up with all the unnecessary standards that creep into our minds only to tell us that we're not yet good enough. No one ever seems to have enough time to accomplish their basic goals, let alone enjoy the extra things, the more contemplative activities, that can be so healthy for a person's soul. Now I realize I'm speaking in broad generalizations here, and I realize that most people lie somewhere along the middle of this spectrum I'm invented in my head, but as I've been here in Honduras, I've definitely moved from one end to the other, and in doing so, I've been able to see what lies between.

So I guess what I'm saying is that life here is slow. It's easy. It allows me to spend time cooking and eating and knitting and walking and playing the guitar and writing and reading novels and blogs and websites. It allows me to go in to Tegus (very rarely) and watch a concert while having a few beers with a few friends. It allows me to spend a Saturday on the couch watching college football, interrupted only by a beautiful walk down to campus to get a frozen coffee. And maybe best of all, it allows me to teach kids that constantly make me laugh with dedicated colleagues in a clean, natural environment.

And I get along really well with the other teachers. My roommate is great, I enjoy spending time with the other teachers, and the fourth-grade teacher and I have become pretty good friends. After two years in a place where you live and work with your colleagues in a pretty small community, I've learned that the dynamics between us more often than not play the biggest role in whether or not we stay. And I'm no exception to this rule. Particular changes in staff could make my decision to leave for me. After a first year that was livable and now working on two that have been enjoyable, I don't think I can risk committing myself to a year where I'd just be getting by. I need to have good people around me.

Which is why I want to come home. I want to be able to see all of you in the United States that I see so rarely. I want to be able to play with the babies that are there waiting for me. I want to have access to all the libraries and cultural opportunities that you can't find here. But I don't want to fall back into that rushed consumerism that seeps into my pores so easily when I'm home.

So I'm torn, and I guess, like always, I'll end up making a snap decision based on a conversation with someone, or a job posting, or an extraordinarily good or bad day. I do have time, after all. It's only October.