Here’s a smart plan: Get a teaching certificate.
I ask you: Who in her right mind would choose to work for years writing a novel that might never earn a single penny? Not I. Nope. Back in the days when I was choosing a career, I was far too practical for that. I liked to read, but writing a book myself? … It never crossed my mind.
Instead, I went to college and got a degree in Elementary Education. As my grandma used to say, “A woman can always teach.” It was the perfect job. After a couple years of teaching, she could have a family, and then when her children were old enough to start school, she could go back to work again. Her teaching job would always be there, waiting for her.
That’s the way it was in the Sixties; jobs were easy to find. I didn’t even apply for my first teaching job; the principal called me and asked if I was available.
A bump in the road.
But life is always more complicated than we expect. After teaching for two years—kindergarten and then ninth-grade Spanish—marrying, giving birth to three daughters in a little over three years, and moving to the Philippines, suddenly I found myself unable to find a teaching job.
It seems that, like the United States, other countries have a host of pesky laws about immigration and work permits. Even the Manila International School, which could have negotiated to hire foreigners, was stymied in those days by the powerful Filipino teachers’ union.
So did I give up on my Plan A? Not on your life. I enrolled one daughter and then the second and the third in a cooperative nursery school where the mothers formed the administration and took turns helping out in the classroom. I taught free English classes to the wives of my husband’s colleagues. In an attempt to keep my finger in the educational pool, I campaigned and was elected to the School Board of the International School. I was determined not to be totally out of touch when we moved back to the United States.
The Women’s Club visits Imelda Marcos
Time to think about a Plan B.
Years passed, and we were still in the Philippines. My degree and professional teaching experience had become so stale they might as well have turned to dust and blown away. I’d been spending more time learning Chinese brush painting and batik, planning birthday parties and attending women’s club meetings. Wasn’t it time to declare Plan A dead?
And so, finally I came up with a Plan B. I would earn an MBA. Ateneo University’s Business School was nearby, and the program they offered was in partnership with Harvard. Certainly an MBA with such a prestigious backer would help me start a new career as soon as we moved back to the United States.
But after completing two years of classes, we were still in the Philippines, and I still had to contend with the limited job prospects available to “trailing spouses.”
Expat trailing spouses.
When I lived overseas, we didn’t use the currently favored term: “trailing spouse.” We were just “wives.” But we faced the same issues that concern trailing spouses today. Chief among them for anyone with career aspirations was the difficulty in finding meaningful work.
I fumbled around for more years than I care to admit, but eventually I came up with a Plan C. (Or maybe it was Plan D.) I’ll tell you about it next week.
It’s sounding promising 🙂 I love a resourceful woman.
Such interesting “detours” in your life, Nicki. And, now, so many great experiences to share.
True. A detour can be more interesting that the usual straight road, especially if you get a chance to tell someone else about it.
I always enjoy reading your blog posts, Nicki . Like you, I was a trailing spouse, although mine just went to Aberdeen, WA. I had an AA degree (pre-ed) and two children, which, over the years grew to the six we had planned. I was too busy with home and kids to think about a real career, although, like you, I kept my skills sort of current by teaching preschool classes at the nearby YMCA, and volunteered in Boy and Girl Scouts, and Sunday School classes as well.
Eventually, I got a teaching degree from UPS at Evergreen. I was a first year teacher at 48! I wish I could say it was the perfect job for me, but it wasn’t. It was at least 3rd down on a list, if not farther, but it was the one within reach–there were not the online classes at that time that there are now. I taught first grade for 11 years before I burned out/self-destructed, whatever. I like writing–I have three blogs–whether I’ll ever write a book remains to be seen.
Being a first year teacher in first grade at the age of 48 must have been hard. I was so enthusiastic about teaching primary school when I was in my twenties. By the time I was forty, it didn’t sound as attractive to me, especially without experience under my belt.
Nicki, the good news here is WE got to stay home with our kids until all of them went to kindergarten! Not many women get that privilege these days–they usually have to go back to work in three months after the birth of their child. I think I would have hated that.
I did enjoy being at home with my kids when they were young. When my daughters went back to work so soon after giving birth, I worried a little for them. But with energy, planning and organization, they made it work. I don’t know if I could have done as well as they did.
You made Imelda look frumpy.
Trailing spouses- great term that expresses how we were thought of ‘back in the day’. Doubt the men ever had that moniker trailing after them. So glad you have experiences that lead you to become a writer and create Tiger Tail Soup!
You would think the terminology would become more euphemistic rather than moving in the opposite direction. I have seen articles recently about the “male trailing spouse,” but that’s still the exception. Living overseas, I did have many wonderful experiences. It’s too bad I didn’t get interested in writing sooner and that we didn’t have the internet then.
Oh Nicky,
Your surprise me each week! Your strength is remarkable! The picture with Imelda Marcos is so interesting. (So strange that I keep checking all the ladies’ shoes!)
That afternoon tea with Mdm. Marcos was sort of a cultural trip of the Asian Development Bank Women’s Club. Some of the other trips I remember were to Corregidor, the Banaue Rice Terraces, and to Taal Volcano. I wrote about the volcano trip in Scorching Our Feet on Taal Volcano.
Wow, what a cliffhanger . . . can’t wait to hear more!
Here’s a hint: Marcos wasn’t the only one affected by the People Power Revolution.