My trip to the dentist office required two different buses to make it from the school to the door of our appointed dentist. In September, Lee and I applied to the NHS for a dentist. In February, we were finally assigned a specific dentist's office here in Preston and then were required to make an appointment within two weeks of receiving our acceptance letter. In the UK, people also have the choice to go to a private dentist--which we also looked into back in September due to a severe toothache Lee was experiencing. When the privatised dentist's secretary sent us an information pack, we learned that we would have to pay a monthly fee as if we were subscribing to a magazine. This fee would reserve us a spot at that specific dentist, but the visits would be normal (every six months) and those visits would also need to be paid for separately than the monthly fee. Also, any emergency dental work that would be needed would be an additional cost. We didn't see the point in this--that is, until I experienced the NHS dentist.
The second bus I hopped onto couldn't travel its usual route because a road was closed so I knew I was going to arrive about 10 minutes late to my 4 o'clock appointment. Lee rang ahead for me from work (because I didn't write down the office's number) to let the receptionists know that I might be running behind. When I got off the bus, I ran to the building and checked-in two minutes late. After I apologised for my tardiness, I turned to see the waiting area that wrapped around into an L-shape: about fifteen people were waiting for their appointment as well. This may be one difference between a privatised dentist and the NHS in that the appointments are scheduled more precisely to reduce waiting time. After 35 minutes, my name was called and I walked into a room with 1980s colours, decor, and equipment. The appointment lasted no more than 10 minutes and my check-up merely entailed the dentist poking every tooth, running a tool along my gum line, using a spinning drill-sounding grinding machine, and recording an image of my teeth with the x-ray. I was streamlined through these steps and told to wait for the results of my x-ray. For fifteen minutes, I sat in the waiting room, jamming internally to the blaring music (coming from a radio with a sign that read, "Do not adjust the volume of the radio"). A girl in a Star Trek-like grey uniform came out to tell me that my x-ray was fine and I was allowed to go. I paid the £17 basic fee and left for the bus stop.
From this experience, I was mostly surprised at the outdated tools and rushed protocol once I finally got into the office. I do appreciate the a la carte payment choices because I don't feel cheated paying a lot of money for a basic check-up; however, the extra money might make an impressive difference in the technology and treatment found in private dentists' offices. Until we win the lottery, then I guess we'll never really know and can only dream of the possibilities.
When I got my job in November, I was well aware that it was a temporary post lasting until the end of August. Since I've been in the school and getting to know the other teachers better, almost all of them said that when they were hired, their post was also listed as temporary, but then it changed to permanent as the school saw fit--some waited two and a half years to move to the permanent category, though. With this realisation, I started to have confidence that I might be staying at the school longer than I thought and kept doing my best every day to earn the respect of the head teacher and deputy head. The kink in my journey toward permanency is that another person was hired at the same time as me and although he was supposed to be finished with his post at Easter, another teacher's decision to leave left a need for him to stay until August as well.
Looking ahead at next year's budgets, the head teacher was informed that she could only keep one teaching assistant permanently and the other one had to go in August. This meant that an interview had to be held to determine which of us wanted the job and who could have it. Well, on March 16, I learned that the school decided to keep the male teaching assistant because he can handle boys with bad behaviour better than me and taught them rugby. I was completely devastated. The school, staff, and students are all wonderful and that was the first interview where I didn't get the job. I'm a quietly competitive person, so the past week working alongside someone who 'beat me,' essentially, has been quite the challenge. (An Ashley example: When I was at my best friend's birthday party in 1995, all of us girls were sitting around the dining room table eating cake and ice cream. Someone asked my best friend in what year she was born and she said, '1987.' I said, 'I was born in 1897,' because I knew I was older than her, and obviously, wanted to have that little edge up. Her mom pointed out that my statement was an impossibility.)
After a long talk with my mom (mum), and a lot of praying, I am now comfortable with the decision that transpired. I realised that this freedom at the end of the summer gives Lee and I a chance to break out of Preston, move to a more idyllic town, and start fresh in a place where we feel safer. Also, this teaching assistant post wasn't all for nothing because an English working experience should help me get my foot in the door into the next set of schools to which I send my resumes (CVs). All of the bits and bobs I've learned about the English school system will only be a head-start to wherever I am working next and I'll have more knowledge of English proprieties that I wouldn't have learned otherwise.
Four days after learning about my employment fate, Lee left for his trip to Hong Kong. A week doesn't seem that long, especially when we've been apart for a year before, but the nights seem to come to a halt. Everything stops! Television shows drag on, people move at a snail's pace, and the house is motionless. Is there anything lonelier than a single toothbrush by the sink? Well, besides the person using the toothbrush. There's reminders everywhere that I'm the only one here--one towel on the door hooks, one side of the bed always tidy, and the single set of fork, spoon, knife, dish, and cup. I'm very happy for Lee and this opportunity he has, but I'm also astounded at how easily loneliness can invade when I thought I'd be comfortable being independent for a week.
A song that keeps replaying in my head lately is What a Friend We Have in Jesus. On the bus ride home from the interview, the lyrics just started singing in my thoughts and have carried me through the times where I just want to break down and feel bad for myself.
"What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer. O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer."
On Sunday, the preacher and a girl named Vicky also had this same message come to them in the last week: our home is in Jesus and He is the only place we will always find love, because He is love. He's always here for us--when we feel we're not good enough, when we feel alone, or even when we're being rushed through a crowded dentist's office, feeling somewhat unimportant. Only when I refocused my thoughts to what God has planned for me, and that I must listen and be patient to this plan, then I started to feel much better and realise that the opportunities could be much greater now. I'm really excited to see what God has in store for me and Lee in the next few months and I will definitely keep you updated.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
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| Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. |
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| Bella |
