Work

It was 25 degrees celcius today in Montreal, and people were sunbathing on their lunchbreaks in the park. I didn't have a lunchbreak; I'm jobhunting. "Pounding the Pavement", as one of the business English texts says is a common idiom to describe my situation. Pounding indeed. One of the reasons I originally decided to come to Montreal was that I had a fairly comfortable life and job in Stuttgart, and I needed to step back from that, to know what my next step would be. I've sure as hell done that all right.

Being jobless or in a precarious situation at work is one of the rare problems that a well-established, qualified teacher doesn't have to face often. Teachers qualify, get a job, and then move to the next job without having to face the concerns of being fired from one day to the next because of downsizing, because a powerful client doesn't like your face, or because your boss had a bad morning. Although some teachers struggle to find a position, we mostly take our position for granted. Unless you do something horribly wrong, you're probably safe, you just might have to deal with a bolshy parent or a stroppy teenager, but you're not likely to end up jobless.

Unless of course you decide to pick up your stuff and leave for another continent on a whim, without securing a contract on the other end, that is. But only idiots do that sort of thing.

Meanwhile, there are some things you learn about yourself when spending your time interviewing, running around trying to convince people that their company is the best thing since sliced bread, and the only thing you ever asked Santa Claus for since you were three was to have a job in their scrumptrilescent company. I, for one, am learning to make everything count more. Friends, family, possessions, the knowledge that I've got fresh vegetables at home waiting for me for dinner, and that the sun shone really nicely this morning through the trees when I was out running. The insecurity and fear of looking for work makes you focus on the essentials. What's really important, and how can I be grateful for it.

Sounds cheesy, I know, but it's true. I hope anybody who reads this realises that right now more than ever, I value them for who they are. I have a couple of students who read this, Julia and Pragathi, and I have never been so grateful for having been their teacher. My parents might read this, and I know they don't believe it but I love them and appreciate what they've done for me over the years. My sister is endlessly patient with my vagaries, my endless rants over the phone, and my crazy ideas for how I'm going to change the world. My friends in Stuttgart think I'm raving mad, and my friends in London are just checking in to see if I'm going to be in another country by the time their TV series is over.

But having a permanent job isn't the only form of important work. Friendships are work, and so is study and leisure. It's hard work to practice the guitar for hours to be good enough for a gig, or to keep at a friend till they tell you what's really the matter. And some forms of work are really fascinating.

Last week I went to a reading by Colum MacKann, an Irish author whom my mother is officially in love with. His all-too-obvious Dublin accent punctuated a series of readings from his short stories, from Dancer, the biography of Rudolph Nureyev, and his most recent, Zoli, an unusual tale of a roma gypsy girl. His writing sounds like some of the most gruelling work I could imagine. He has travelled and spent time in the most unlikely places, doing 'reasearch' for his novels. He's worked all sorts of mad jobs and sacrificed years of his life for one piece of writing. His friendliness and genuine interest in each reader who came up to get a book signed, testified that this is work to him. Art is work; simple as that.

I just came back this evening from a public lecture on Seamus Heaney in Concordia University, given by Kevin Whelan, an Irish UCD scholar. It was a beautifully conducted lecture, which dealt with some of Heaney's biography without reducing his language to the mundane events of his life. Dr. Whelan obviously has a love for Heaney's work which goes so deep he barely needs to be prompted to deliver a fantastic lecture. As a teacher, it was so satisfying to finally grasp some of what the song-and-dance over Heaney actually is.

I could have sat in front of the TV and watched a series with my flatmate. I could have quietly finished my chapter of 'Les Miserables' (yes Julia, I'm keeping up with the reading, although I don't read as fast as you!), but I have decided to make the most of the academia in this city and go out to an academic lecture after a rough day's jobhunting to attend this lecture.

Who knows what I'll think of this time, when I look back on it years from now. One thing that's for sure; this will be one of the times in my life I most appreciated the value of an honest day's work.