I’m not sure when it happens, but at a certain age/point in your life you reflect on the choices you’ve made, where you’ve ended up and how you’ve gotten there. I imagine I can’t be alone where there is a single choice, a yes or no, to do or not do, a decision that sets into motion a butterfly-effect of events. A defining moment where you know for certain that if you had said “no” instead of “yes” (or the reverse) that your life would have turned out drastically different. Not worse, nor better, just different from what it is now.
For me, I can say that came in 2014 while I was living in Costa Rica. From October to December 2013 I did a TEFL (teaching English certificate course) in Montezuma, Costa Rica. Upon graduating we received a list of potential employers around the Country whom I promptly emailed. One of them, called Intercultura in Heredia, a suburb of San Jose (the capital), responded and set up an interview for January 6th. It was perfect because I was going home for Christmas. At that point, I didn’t have to return to Costa Rica. I could have gone anywhere, however I hadn’t really experienced the country, and I wanted to experience teaching there. So I returned, not knowing anybody with only an interview.
The interview went well, but at the end, she said, “you know this is for a part-time position on Saturdays. We can give you three hours, but it’s possible down the road you can get more.” I had no idea! Apparently, they were posting ads on Craigslist listing these details, but because I emailed them directly I never saw it. I answered something along the lines of, “Of course, it’s no problem.” I hoped my face didn’t betray that “I was surprised” and “I don’t want to work on Saturdays.” When or how I was told I got the job is hazy, but I remember struggling with whether to accept it. Three hours on a Saturday!
Ultimately, I accepted. I am certain that if I said no, I would not have continued teaching English. I would have never gone to live in Spain and South Korea and now be going to school to study architecture. Since the job was only three hours on a Saturday, I had to find other work. I did this by teaching Business English. This meant traveling to businesses around the San Jose area to teach their employees. Usually the lessons were an hour and a half, and commuting could take two hours. They didn’t cover bus expenses, and it was impossible to have more than two classes a day. I was working three days a week at a factory giving lessons to the manager. I had to get up at 5:30 am, take a packed bus 20-30mim, get off at a random stop and then walk 5-10 min. It was horrible, but at least I had a good rapport with my student, that is until he randomly decided he didn’t want me as a teacher (I later learned it’s because he preferred female teachers). Slowly however, Intercultural assigned me more classes as I was losing the business English ones. Eventually, I stopped teaching business English and worked solely at Intercultura. It was a language school, so classes were held there. If I had said no to those Saturday hours, I would have been stuck teaching business English and I would have hated it. I wouldn’t have continued teaching and I would have gone home and done something different.
Other than job stability, working at Intercultura acted as a conduit for me to meet other English teachers. On the first day of orientation, two girls, Amber and Niamh, asked if I wanted to live with them. They had a spare room. Having never lived with girls and coming out of college living with four other guys, I was hesitant, but saying yes to them is another one of those times I’m glad I did. Not only did they become great friends (I spent the following Christmas with Niamh and her family in Ireland), but their house was an attached house to three other English teachers at Intercultura. We were like a big family, an invaluable asset when you’re on your own for the first time.
I couldn’t imagine where my life would have led if I had said “no” to Intercultura. I know I wouldn’t be where I am now nor who I am now. It’d be a different version of me writing about something else or maybe not even writing at all.
