Intro to this Adventure - Part I

The story about how and why this teaching job came about:

In February of this past year, around Ash Wednesday, as I neared the end of my graduate studies at Wheaton College, I was clueless as to the direction my Intercultural Studies/TESOL degree might take me.

TESOL refers to “Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages,” and it is an umbrella term for basically any E. as Second Language, or E. as Foreign Language instruction. So the teaching contexts vary considerably: would I choose to teach English to children at Mae Sot refugee camp, or to businessmen in Seoul, or to high schoolers in Illinois, or to medical students in Qatar? In theory, my training afforded me all of these opportunities, and I just needed to pick one. On the other hand, jobs aren't raining down on us these days.
The options that let me stay with my irreplaceable friends in Wheaton (the “McToolBots” as we call ourselves), or live in Chicago with my practically-sisters (college roommates), or the thought of moving near my beloved brothers on the east coast all had strong sway. Yet I kept hearing “Asia, Asia, remember Asia?” Yes, I thought, I love Asia; can’t help it, I do. And so, when I logged onto the TESOL careers website after joining the international TESOL organization, I found myself sending my resumé to schools in S. Korea, Qatar, and to one university in Bangladesh, which I was surprised to see represented on the website. I was able to set up interviews with a few of these schools whose directors would be coming to Boston for the International TESOL convention which I attended in late March. After three Korean school interviews, I returned to my friend Tanja’s south end Boston apartment with a growing knot in my gut - I didn’t want to teach English games to the children of wealthy businessmen in Seoul. Suddenly, the next day's interview with Chittagong’s Asian University for Women (AUW), took on more weight, and I grew nervous with the realization that I wanted this job and I needed to communicate why to Kathy Schneider, my interviewer.
Tanja, by the way, is about to head to India, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Cambodia (for starters), to work beside and within some dedicated anti-human trafficking NGOs and with survivors of the horrendous sex trade. She has left a successful graphic design job to use her incredible skills in the creation/marketing of products made by the women and girls in rehab centers. Conversations with her the night before my interview in Boston confirmed that the work of AUW is wonderful and so necessary, and it’s something in which I would be deeply privileged to participate.

I walked into the interview booth for AUW’s Access Academy with a list of questions, and my rehearsed explanation of why I should be there. Miss Schneider began, “Christa Thorpe? Nice to meet you. So…. you lived in Bangladesh? Your father translated Tagore? You know that it’s hot and noisy? I have your cover letter and resumé here… I’m going to offer you this job, let’s just talk.”

Nearly rendered speechless, I stalled a bit in my response, though I’m sure my smile betrayed my already-decided intent to accept. But we went on happily with formalities of discussing teaching philosophy, curriculum, the state of the school, my responsibilities, what Chittagong is like these days. It seemed we had both approached that one-hour meeting with mutual anticipation - hoping that it would work out. And it did. And I was flying high as I walked out and returned to Tanja’s then out for a celebratory Guinness.

I received the official offer a week later, and responded affirmatively the week of Easter.

Returning Home to Bangladesh

For the first eight years of my childhood, the monsoon rains of Bangladesh drenched half my memories each year. My parents raised my brothers and I in Ishurdi and Dhaka until 1995 when we moved back to Maine, the home of my seafaring Thorpe ancestors. I had the richest childhood imaginable, in a beautiful country whose GDP places her among the poorest nations in the world despite great growth in recent years. That's not what I knew of Bangladesh though. I knew Tanya, my best friend - pictured above with me in a red sari. I knew the joy of running in flooded rice paddies with my brothers. I knew a mother dressed elegantly in saris, who never complained over forfeiting the luxuries of pampers while she hand-washed cloth diapers. And neither the heat nor torrential downpours marred the image of my first home that I carried with me to Maine.

Now again leaving my beloved Maine, I prepare to return to the monsoons, the heat, the mangoes, the traffic, lizards and cockroaches, power outages, rice, dal, curry, jackfruit, and countless other familiar sights, smells, tastes, and sounds. I am spending these next four weeks in Maine with growing excitement about the unfamiliar parts of B'desh that I'll soon encounter. I am returning not as a six-year old riding rickshaws on my father's lap. I'll be living in Chittagong, a city I barely recollect from our one visit there. I'll be teaching English to young women from across Asia at the Access Academy of the Asian University for Women (AUW). I'm so eager to meet my students and put into full-time practice the learning I received in Wheaton, Illinois these past couple years. The only other time I have returned to Bangladesh since '95 was in 2003 when I went with my family and some friends to teach English in Rajshahi. I am so grateful for this opportunity to return again. This time, to a new region and with a new role.