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waive torment me who read a full description of each of the interviews I had, just say that, with specific differences in style, all followed a similar pattern, a common format generated, probably, in the repetition year after year, the same procedure: general questions about education, youth and international work, specific questions about my teaching, my teaching experience, my current circumstances, "Why do you want to leave the country where you live?", "How do you feel about the idea of \u200b\u200bliving abroad?", "do you think you can adapt?" (Climate, region, customs).

had talked with everyone I could about these interviews, which to me, without much experience in this kind of shows, I fancied mysterious and even uncertain. People with more generous mileage gave me advice, keys, tricks, right words, taboo subjects, I can say that in a month I learned "the ABCs of a successful interview" and was instructed, with affection, something that did not perform much, a job interview.

The first-and last-remembered going back to 1992, I was a young arrogant master of the world and I feel capable of anything, so, encouraged by my sister who watched with concern my penchant for literature and my probable future of indigent poet-Byzantine I got the idea to go with my new obtained Bachelor of Law and Political Science, to offer regional sales manager for a huge crime that until now sells, shampoo, soap, toilet paper, feminine pads and other subtleties. What was he doing there? I'll never know for sure, but I think the Human Resources Manager was surprised when I asked where I saw myself in ten years and I said, loose bone, "in his post" (this step and would be General Manager of the Year car at the door or, more likely, an illustrious unemployed).

course, my job prospects were affected by minor problems, for starters, he had never sold anything in my life (unless you count the ice creams, water and soda sachet, which he sold to my mother when the boys wanted to make the park Spain that helped load the shopping basket, or perhaps the booming business of chicken sandwiches I left a few weeks because I felt that my friendship with Mario, we've managed to keep three decades, was more important than the profits we generated Lilliputians my partner and me), but I told the interviewer, with displeasure of my twenties, that "it is very easy, right?", then there was the matter of English, that the years have evolved my absolute illiteracy at more or less enlightened self-confidence that shines on me now, "was not exactly a banner defend me though, of course, I said that" anyone learn English "(as certain as inconsistent statement) and, finally, the tiny they do not know how to drive but "a matter of days" so he could drive like Niki Lauda the van they were going to give me for use in the rugged mountain roads of my country.

As it is difficult to infer, I was hired. From then on I got work as is done in Latin America, know someone who knows someone who is looking for someone to do something that you can do, a call a recommendation, an informal conversation, and presto, you are already employed by someone who, if you did it right, it will contact and reference for the next position you aspire.

said this is easy to deduce that my alarm at the interviews that came up was more than just a product of my neurosis amazed that my concern was increasing every minute, was more than a "simple and understandable nervousness" , especially after the disastrous and demoralizing interview I had with the school in the Middle East where my "no title" resulted in "not working".

However, when the desolation was weighing on his shoulders more excess kilos that normally creep, I remembered my dear friend Eddie, the cause of all this, the father of this situation that I was working at the crossroads. While walking down the hallway floor where the room was the school director in China, Eddie and clarity came to me with the simple words that cleared my picture in one of the many emails that I wrote: "Stop worrying, I know who you are and you'll do well, that's the whole meaning of the interview, be honest, I assure you, moreover, no half measures with you, or are you or hire you. " So I did.

talked with each of the interviewers with an ease that can have one in front of someone who knows some time, of course, not the freedom of the speaker with an old friend but with clarity and candor. I said what I thought and what I knew, I did not know or did not say if they asked me, I said I did not know. I fled from that old habit of assuming that we have an answer for everything and I took the "do not know" as an option is humanly possible, I realized that these people, who have spent many years doing the same in a dozen regular fairs around the world have experienced enough to realize that old weakness of wanting to look perfect against whom we are evaluating, I told my story as I know it, which is like I have lived, with its good and bad times, my successes and my failures, with great satisfaction that being a teacher has given me over time and also with those seasons where everything seems to be heading for disaster, I talked about my students as they speak of me with the same informality and closeness with which I have tried in these almost twenty years of teaching, with the daily life to which I refuse to resign, that establishing horizontal relations with boys and girls - Today many men and women, fathers and mothers with whom I keep the old friendship that began in the classroom. I thought about my students as he spoke of them, young people who do not intend nothing more to be considered as equals in the most humane sense, they do not want anything other than talk, be heard, be sure you know that before them a little longer because it has a little more experience, but over all things, is interested in them, their lives, their dreams, their sorrows, their loves and their adventures. So, inspired by these reflections, I discussed what I learned at this time, of how I became a teacher by mistake or, worse, by necessity, how was a teenager when Manolo, one of my close friends, had the idea to open Byzantine pre-college academy and began to teach history to win few cents to let me take my own life more lightly and how well student gradually, without noticing it, I was wandering from academia in academia, I was collecting names and stories and friends and one day, without much awareness of what ago, I finished high school teacher in a wonderful school where the crazies in Barranco important were the guys and not the ratings, where the concern was that students were good and not to know by heart the table of chemical elements or dates each of the battles of World War II, where the daily work of teachers was not lost in a thousand meetings "coordination" or "analysis" or "programming" but to verify that the young were well in the broadest sense of the term, friendly and feel part of a community that cared about their opinions, their experiences and fears.

In each interview, I went deep into my memories with the freedom of those who say only what he knows and he knows because he has lived and remember and relive it, I talked about how I came to the world of international schools Cecilia's hand one day I was reading poetry and believed in me, my experience in the different system but at the same time like, "because young people are young people everywhere" I narrated my experiences while working with kids different cultures, different language, traditions and beliefs even distant and often conflicting and competing, I explained how fascinating it can be to take the same class Catholics, Christians, Jews and Arabs, and how they already knew, with certainty, that dialogue, coexistence, understanding, tolerance and mutual respect for ideas are not only necessary but absolutely possible.

Driven by my own enthusiasm, I went from interview to interview with confidence that he will tell his little truth, a truth that can not be contradicted or that will never hunted at fault because, with its ups and downs, with their bad times and good morning, was what was and that's what I've seen in recent years when I was discovering as a teacher, because although I started almost by mistake, it is even more true that the teaching I was slowly gaining, which was becoming part of my life and that, without my realizing it, only I knew last year when I teach many months away from my students and my books became part of my existence.

so forth and so I talked and talked in English (still do not know how I get) and I responded with my simple truths all the questions I did, I raised my doubts, I was curious and asked who I am. "Bad, good, regular?, I do not know why I left the trial of the others, those others who were, in short, who were in me or not I was looking for work. In short, I followed the advice of Eddie, I was real or, at least as authentic as I can be a human in these times that deify the image and form, in these days of plastic and silicone.

It went very well. Well, I felt I did very well. Although the five interviews that day did not get any confirmation or any offers from China, not two of the Emirates, or Scotland or the United States, I was pleased with me and my journey, as someone taught me, "that we pay for who we are, not what we are not. "

That night, before going to lunch with Jessica, Marc and Gail, I spent the last room where the folders where we had left the notes. I found one, China wanted to talk with me again ...

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At midnight began the second phase. The grant you an appointment, recruiters gave you your room number, converted into office where the meeting would materialize. The half dozen lifts was saturated by hundreds of teachers frantically up and down (stairs were athletes, but only talk about them exhausts me). It was interesting to see how, at first, the smiles were suspended as if one knew well what this would end the interview, then again, fascia and practiced ad nauseam, as the sign that things began to acquire their proper context.

was funny to see the candidates straightening his tie and ordered the skirt, fitting the neck, touching up make-up late in a review against the umpteenth compact mirror, checking that the shoes were well polished, inspecting her hair again the luster of the car door and, in general, concentrating on the task of intelligence seems all the good that their resumes and letters of recommendation said (by now had discovered that this "image is everything", he says some propaganda of soda, summarizes the philosophy of those who developed the art of advertising was a science it is, and I am not surprised, and I guess the recruiters either, "read" resumes "that confuse the extract and the job market with a work of fiction, why is it that many showed an excessive concern for her outfit or that I was becoming paranoid?).

My first appointment was arranged for 0:30, so I did not run. Had enough time to observe how others hurried pace as I moved slowly towards my destination. I got to the corresponding floor, knocked on the door and I was a man in his fifties, friendly and cordial, was the representative of a school in a Middle Eastern country.

Everything looked good start, but the situation soon became daunting.

The recruiter, who read my papers in front of me (I guess they did not have time to do it before), I asked: "Do you have the title of professor?", Which I realized I had not checked my data with necessary calm. I explained what was pristinely cleared up on my resume, I have no title of professor but for twenty years he taught, I am Bachelor of Laws, I studied a Masters and a Ph.D. in Literature, which also studied a degree course in education and, as was indicated in my papers, had not made those blessed thesis which had many transcripts but only a title.

In those moments, I thought of my father and all of the reasons why "if you want to know killer flies, but with title", he, a man whose knowledge I have rarely found in others, a curious man who never left study and who was always learning something and in which the brain stores more wisdom than almost all other human beings I've known, never obtained a title, never made of cardboard that read "yes, he knows what we certify here" and saw many, with fewer lights, less knowledge, with less features, benefits obtained by the mere fact of having the blessed board. "A degree does not guarantee anything," he repeated, "but schooled in the world today is indispensable." I think both tormented me with what to "be a degree" that never got, of course, I have a BA in law for which you have passed all required courses of the race, but could have four more. I would have to ask when hiring a psychiatrist, but I guess that paternal insistence was born in me a kind of aversion to theory, every study I have undertaken I have done, however, make the argument generates some urticaria paralyzing me and unwieldy, and though I have taught "Methodology research in college and although I have been advisor to several monographs-all-approved International Baccalaureate, I never wanted (or could) go on a. The day I give titles to write books, I sign up with a couple ...

was thinking about my father and ignored advice when the interviewer's question again tore my chaste ears: "Do you have title of professor or something similar? ". I gave to repeat what had already explained, I quit again show copies of my certificates that more than eleven years of college, and said laconically:" no. "I am very sorry he is of praise "for your excellent summary and your wonderful references", but he said that the country was the school where he presided over was indispensable for the title of professor that I granted the visa, "a taste" and "good evening. "

I must confess that his honesty was like a punch to the chest, but since I lost my composure and the show must go on, I smiled, told him to just take out my Title warn him and walked toward the exit as full as I entered. He kindly accompanied me in the door and said goodbye to me at the same time giving him a warm welcome to another candidate waiting in the corridor. Greeted him with the same smile, the same sympathy, the same gesture probably repeated a thousand times in as many fairs and interviews. I left.

already in the lift, the weight of the fourteen-storey building fell on me. One moonless night and overcast sky could not be black. The desolation, the hungry beast of our defeats, showed his teeth.

I did not lose his poise, because, as you know, it is not feasible lose in the midst of battle and Benedetti is right when he says "it is forbidden mourn over the books / because it looks good smudging." However, I wondered, as I almost always wonder if all this was worth it, if the effort is justified, if all the bet in this game had a meaning, if not better turn back, making bags, back where I came and end refuge in the house of my parents.

Ah, the questions, since when I do them, since when I have no answers or the answer is not unique, which is the same thing? I do not know, but what I have clear is that there is nothing more appropriate for a million abstract questions that few concrete answers. The facts tend to make our way and intellectual musings do not stop being a wonderful exercise that helps the brain to oxidize and turn away from the terrible possibility of becoming automatons-fascinating subject, especially now with so much young living in autism, voluntary and perpetual, between the computer, cell phone, ipod and TV. So the questions of performance, thoughts and reflections brought forced responses. Answer simple, simple, pedestrian, but essential at the time.

lucid and, I realized that my parents died in June and in October two years different too long ago that the house was theirs to Miraflores, where I spent my last college, he bought my sister in Lima my teaching position had been filled by someone else two years ago in Mexico I have not permanent employment and part-time work is very comfortable but very unprofitable in a city as expensive as the Federal District, I'm already too old to get discouraged and untimely to call for help, I understood I understood my circumstances and Ortega y Gasset ( who never read in depth but whose sentence completely out of context, I have always pursued), I understood especially Cortés, Hernán Cortés, the conqueror of the Aztecs who at thirty-four years she decided to go all out and burned their ships so there was no option of going back, for the temptation of return falls upon the impossibility of a return without regard to the cowardice-if-not reached a rope bridge, footpath or road and had to be "value and forward", and when a man discovers that never again can be a child. Thus, thinking of Cortez stopped the elevator and found myself on the first floor where forced smiling faces of a hundred thousand teachers made me understand that the game was not over and that much remained to destination.

I walked to our "Headquarters." Jessica, Mark and I had taken over "our" table and there promised to get together after each interview. In addition, the group had joined Gail, my former colleague in Lima, and Maki, a friendly Japanese who lived in Mexico and, like me, looking for work as a teacher of English, although she had a priority to teach children six years, something quite remote from my expectations.

I told everyone what happened. I listened to the joint care of these friendships born in the midst of a forced and stressful situation where, somehow, we all played the foreseeable future.

Jessica, serene and beautiful, said, "you do not have title of professor is not conclusive, is only slightly more complicated" and Marc, cynical, loyal, said I was not going to have trouble getting a job, " how much as you speak and managed with increased security and the self-esteem? "," only you, Marc, "I replied," exact ", retorted the gringo," but I teach physics, not literature, so I'm not competition for you ". We all laughed heartily. My mood changed completely and I was, like someone decided to fight (with the decision of who knows what all their old ships burn in the bank) to my next meeting.

was two in the afternoon, and the school was in China.

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The procedure for obtaining an interview with a recruiter is very simple and devoid of any modern technology. I mean, you come at seven in the morning to the hotel (many were staying there, others were in a close, some, like Jessica, spent the night with a relative and a few others, like Marc, had rejected large hotels in the vicinity and were housed in more traditional hotels in downtown Boston) and walk through the large hall where at that time and have plenty of tables positioned behind them-stuck on the wall are great roles in which each school is identified and declared what teachers need ("There is no updated list it, everything on the Internet is outdated compared to this information," Jessica explained to me with whom I met at the door of the hotel and who, like me, was in the group of early risers.)

When the bus left us at 6:45, it was not yet seven. However, the line of impatient waiting and have sleepless fifty people, that was nothing, in a few minutes we would be five hundred. doors were opened the room and income. People moved wildly, as if trying to locate hasty schools that were in the top of their preferences (as I did not, in these new circumstances I have stated, most claim to get a job, looking indifferent to the plight of others and proceeded leisurely to the broad environment saturated with teachers dressed in their finest fabrics-which is no less a fiction, because it does not teach classes, except some college too traditional and conservative, more English than American-).

walked next to Jessica who suddenly pulled out of portfolio that block that never left and began to write with the dedication that she usually does things. "What do you score?" Curious asked, "I make a list of schools that need teachers of music, compared with that I have, I delete those who no longer have vacancies, which have added new seats, and I a map of the room to know where should I go first. " Yes, that's it, at that time did not know whether to envy or to thank my genes for the bohemian chaos that protects me. Against this girl so orderly, so farsighted, so ready to exit gracefully from the trance that was coming, I was dragging, without much attention, backpack where my computer would (probably the only material that he kept some appreciation today, unless we take into account my clothes sized only find in some cities in the world where obesity is not a dirty word but a good deal) , the twenty copies of my resume and some samples of the books I have published (such as an ace in the hole because the writers, who knows why, we have some work impunity and some social prestige). "Will not you write?" He asked when we finished going around the place and I looked with the same eyes of uncertainty with which I see every time I do not know something and not know what hidden awaken maternal instincts women, "Come, I will score," said the beautiful, young and friendly music teacher and retrace the space filled with teachers who could not hide his excitement under his freshly ironed shirts and skirts below decentísimas knees.

At eight entered recruiters. be placed on their tables. started dancing. front of the area for each school were formed ranks, a long and others short, depending on who knows what act of selection and discrimination that applicants understand Pearl and to me remains as mysterious and fascinating as faith, love and ice cream served right in the middle of winter. Before tables where recruiters feverishly coordinated appointments, marching one by one the applicants. The heads of the institutions had a minute or two to see if you knew (if I had written previously) or to take a look, as the crow flies, the curriculum handed over. They read, I saw, I scrutinized a few moments with the experience of those who for years "reading" people in a few seconds, talking two or three words between them and gave you an appointment or you say "sorry, not what we are looking "or came to "Right now I have no free space to make appointments, but leave me your resume and if the occasion arises we communicate with you," an empty phrase, but full of hope (of course, there are variations on the table in Russia For example, a lovable woman told me "you have the experience we need and would love to hire you, but in the Russian Republic by visa issues, only hired American and British" or so).

This lasted two hours. At ten emptied the room, changed roles, put others in other schools with new vacancies and again started the second round of the hunt for a quote that could be the promise of a job somewhere in the world. With so many participating schools and more than five hundred candidates, there was no room in the hotel where we could be together, so the division.

Using the plane kindly Jessica had drawn me, I went to the tables looking for teachers of Castilian and chose, first, the shorter lines (and Sally had warned "do not despise a school because not know where it is or they hear a faraway place or causes fear to know nothing of that region, all institutions participating in this fair have been verified by the Association and are outstanding places to work ") and, once it had secured some interviews, I made the longer tails (usually in very large schools with lots of job offer). The procedure was simple and expeditious ; those first hours passed ferocious.

At noon was concluded that stage. Recruiters rose and went to their rooms, converted into makeshift offices, where dozens of talks would enter into with dozens of strangers to those with specific questions, with experience, with the eye used to "read" people beyond their papers and recommendations, all I learned in years of work as administrators, they would discriminate in a "this interests me, this is not" all our best teachers and our best smile suits us we presented as an "option" as the best choice in this sea of \u200b\u200bhundreds of teachers looking for work.

After the first part of the process we were all there with our few or many interviews agreed, ready to go. Quotations pact had made all my appointments would be possible (but opened the next day a "last resort" where schools have not yet hired, gave a new opportunity to get an appointment for Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning, I was curious, really there were few remaining job opportunities, although the theme of opportunities we know that, like the lottery-just one, if the award).

I got nine citations (three of which had been previously agreed with the blessed text messages you left in the folder and only reconfirmed here, for example, a recruiter from a college in China, I was in line, called me and said "you know we are interested in you, do we see each other? ", and that was it) Jessica got fifteen, Marc, whom she later we met and who was very clear where he wanted to go and where not, had agreed a just over half a dozen meetings (good numbers, because then I knew of others who only got three or four).

After the first function is one with a lot of paperwork in hand and pledges " at that hour talk "with their risk nothing and silence, with his previous troubles, his nerves, his hopes, his walk through the halls turning his clock time consuming and wholeness, their comings and goings, their people going up and down the stairs or the elevator to face "this job is mine", or around, with the vague expression "I have gone right?". The "free time" are heinous, the time between interview and interview is a kind of black hole from which they all leave again reviewing brochures, inserts, advertising, searching the Internet (as I am I like that tree of wisdom of Good and Evil which I read in the old legends of the religion in which my parents raised me), seeking information, seeking information, looking for previous experience, looking for maps or photos of the cities where the schools those aims as "see" the world would serve to get an idea of \u200b\u200bthe future.

Thus the waiting period began to despair, with the minute hand forward or not moving very fast, with not knowing, with its expectations, with the urgency of holding his composure and not get win the very human temptation to run away ...

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Our first meeting was "only candidates" (the "only recruiters had been before.) When the time drew near, those who were there in the "rooms for teachers," hoping and consuming time while distracting our nervousness, some-many-dipped in their papers, book reviews, manuals and websites, and a-few-with jokes, laughter and cynical enough to allow us to survive the tension, like a smell that sneaks imperceptible until it seizes the environment, was there among us, reminding us where we were and why we were there (finally, the truth was that we would find work and, except an occasional eccentric who seeks employment because you are bored of their millions, all other mortals need to develop certain work activities to ensure these vulgarities as paying the rent, telephone, gas and, of course, hamburgers).

Arrival time, all as moved by invisible alarm clocks which sounded in unison in our consciousness (this is called anxiety, a Christian), we got up and, with more fake than real quiet, move toward the elevators; there, a few steps ahead, opened the doors of an uncertain future as all future (although the uncertainty is usually work more bearable). It was a wonder how there could be seen, we all behaved civilly, acting like any self-respecting teacher, waiting in line patiently and calmly advanced as if nothing really we altered. Entered. The hall where the meeting would take place was the same the next day would be the first battleground, but still lacking for that. The atmosphere was immense, and for a reception gown. Had been arranged several hundred folding chairs, and when we entered, was full lock to lock. We were there all the teachers we wanted to find a job this weekend and all, oh marvel of staging!, Friendly smiled, looked with confidence, and we behaved as if they were a club meeting social camaraderie or tea in the nearby neighborhood. Only then I could see a clear idea of \u200b\u200bhow many we were and how we were, a motley crew of men and women, young and old, experienced and inexperienced. However, young people, where I guess I did not tell me-I formed the largest group. Boys and girls who hardly reached his thirties and, at that time they considered ideal, were about to begin this adventure travel the world teaching classes in places as different from each other, in miles, in customs, in reality, as Lima and Jakarta, as Budapest and Abu Dabhi. Others, like me, were there because the circumstances, that some unstable as the waves of the sea, we were put in back to ride in the back of the adventure, uncertain sands of the great changes.

Although nothing was said again at the meeting tellingly, by the reaction of many of those present, I realized that for the experience of the organizers is evident, few who read the post and less than follow the instructions (if that happens between teachers, imagine what happens to the students!).

singer's voice took John, the creator of this organization that has placed more than 1500 of its members in positions of teachers, managers and administrators in dozens of international schools around the world. Without doubt, must have been a great Professor, simple, cheerful and fun, an old hand who knew how to defuse the charged atmosphere of concern and anxiety. Did more than repeat the thousand signs we already knew by heart, passed quickly which meant that we knew (but then some questions would show how little attention many gave the messages we had sent) and then set tell a series of anecdotes about the lives of international teachers, stories that are in Africa, Asia or South America, places, all of them, including our Latin America, so exotic, distant, distant and full of mystery novel for the vast majority of those who were there (of the five hundred knew we were not more than ten Latinos, except for a very nice lady and I Nicaragua, others were more blond gringos that roamed around, Latino origin but, second or third generation of Cuban, Puerto Rican or Central American-born there raised in the customs and even the language of Shakespeare for whom a hamburger is usual and the Andes or the Amazon, they are as alien as the Himalayas or the Desert Sahara). The stories had a goal, chart how interesting and exciting it can be life "abroad" and John the master had the of whom have years in office, with that humor is so right for the Americans, the mood almost naive, almost innocent, that humor that sometimes we, the Latinos, we sound so strange.

All the stories were the same place, at the same show us how interesting the situation and encourage us to muster the courage to start the day tomorrow. The intention was to reassure us, convince us how exciting this game and make us share the view that, regardless of the outcome, get a job or not-was an experience worth living. I agreed, "at least write an article," I said to Jessica, who, distracted a moment of a thousand notes he took on his block, he replied, with that infinite and natural smile that redeems any guilt and neurosis. Marc, more pragmatic, ironic, said that fortunately did not have to be convinced of anything "in my case, the worst scenario is that I retired to my brother's house in the mountains with my retirement pension ..." "I can hate you? "I said and he told me" of course "with a delicious sarcasm that only the disciples of Diogenes understand without offending.

Then, an hour later, raised the main session, "new", ie that we were going to a job fair for the first time we stayed there and we gather around Sally willing to emancipate any doubt. It was another hour of platitudes and irrelevant questions (again, Sally was not his fault that many did not read the thousands of suggestions and recommendations that it so neatly, sent us), however, there were two or three good Sally dimensions in which we deepened and clarified some issues on how to deal with the interviewers and how to behave in the midst of a series of difficult or embarrassing situations that could arise, but the final recommendation was clear: "Be yourself, be natural" and to hell with Hamlet. Sally explained

that the "battle" began the next day, a particular struggle in which many teachers are looking to be one of the few places that schools offer to their subject. Never drove the statistics and know that officially there were none (because Sally never made mention of them), however, I knew from the morning, an old colleague who I met there, some information was, at least unofficially, because It was the most quiet ("there are ten vacancies around the world and we have only been three professors of theater," he told me very confident as we greeted each other). Not only I met Randall and his confident handling of statistics (and women), also found that attending the fair Gail (whose daughter, Camilla, was student of mine) and Judy (also a teacher at the school where we all work). Gail then introduced me to the school librarian who knew me "for your books," who, with her husband, was also at the fair looking for a new destination for the next two years (which is the usual time of the contracts offered by colleges, both because many of these teachers prefer to live roaming the world and because, I suppose, is a way to be on the safe if the master knew that the only fair and just know that by references to his former bosses - not to be as extraordinary as letters of recommendation and evaluations suggested). Finished

rounds of questions and answers, Sally adjourned the meeting and advised us to "rest for the day tomorrow" obedient, all slowly leave the place. Eight o'clock at night when we parted. Jessica went to the house of the guy who stayed, forty minutes away, Marc went to a traditional hotel in the center that obtained for a better price ("I am frugal"), Gail went to his room he was staying put in the same hotel for the event and I, along with a dozen other teachers, take the free bus gracious and brought us back to the building that housed us.

the way back, about six or seven minutes, was quiet, all of us on the bus we were too absorbed in our thoughts as to maintain an even casual conversation. The next day at seven in the morning, begin a fraternal and friendly battle, but battle at last to get one of the vacancies offered by schools that had attended the fair. Everyone had their preferences clear, all-as he had spoken with my new colleagues in the hours of waiting, had made inquiries, had reviewed manuals, brochures , inserts and websites and, apparently aimed at one or two possibilities that seduced, either by the exotic country, the prestige of the institution or the economic package offered.

Yo-relapsed into confessions-just looking for a job. When early in the afternoon he had told Jessica: "If I hire to make Swahili in Kathmandu say yes" had been absolutely honest, although she, seduced by the delight of sarcasm, he laughed so heartily that until I came to convince me that my sentence was not desperate but a joke. On behalf of the hope-el useless most beautiful gift we have been given, I went to sleep believing Eddie, my old friend, and that "Believe it and you'll conseguis laburo."

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JIS JIS JIS 2 1

If it is true that I hate flying, it's true that the transfers enliven my neurosis, run-that-is-going-on-plane me generates anxiety and, above all, fatigue. I'm fat, do not run. walk slowly, going slowly, it bothers me that I hurry. No way, was the most appropriate ticket (price per hour), so deep breath. Reaching the United States, if one has the right papers, it seems easier for me to leave. In the dozen times that chance and circumstance made me enter the country of the Coca-Cola, I never had any major problems, only for me and repeated occurrence of the ordinary because of my name. Just review the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil that is Google to find a chief of the FARC, a Mexican singer, a jerk who hit on I do not know who do not know what people of my country I've never been, and a wanted drug trafficker who go chasing the Americans for years and which, the first three times I set foot in their country, I "go to next room" where after the confirmation of my itinerary, I let out without major problems. Being overweight finally has its advantages, being outside the standard is easy to be discriminated against in law reviews ("live the difference?).

I came to Boston shortly after one o'clock (from Dallas airport I met only a couple of years ago was opened and the aerial view at the time of landing and departure, I made a huge city surrounded by rocks and desert, in huge houses, the expensive housing overcrowding called "condominium" - I saw small celestial points in every yard, so it seems that Texans like the pool or the heat is nefarious or both). My foresight hotel (to buy the ticket after making reservations) I had a night in the air or, rather, on the street, so I went to the generous solidarity of my former students. Paco Nicholas and I waited in his apartment near the university where they study and the way to the hotel they would be staying when dawn. Talk with them until four in the morning was reassuring.

Early while they still paid tribute to Morpheus, I took a walk around the neighborhood, the temperature would walk two or three degrees and my alpaca scarf was a weak fight. I walked into a supermarket and bought food, and the body more settled, I returned to the apartment shortly before eleven. The boys went to school and I took a taxi. I checked into the hotel and took a hot shower, long and refreshing. In one p.m. started the first bus to the convention center, I took it.

I arrived very early at the place where the fair would be held, but it was not the only one that Thursday had been cautious on schedule, and a hundred people (many housed in the same hotel where the event ') circled around. I was surrounded by teachers who, like me, were looking for a job, and doubts assailed me, how many get a job is this a sort of battle or every man-who-can ?, how can I, a Peruvian stranded in Mexico, had ended there, at a fair looking for work as a teacher in one of the many international schools around the world there? philosophy clearly not going to work for nothing at the time, so I held Charlotte's experience, the first of us, the first of Peruvian teachers at school we were working American, who dared to try and do that for three semesters taught, as only she knows, to love music to students in Kobe. So Charlotte was the final inspiration I needed to arm myself with courage and enter that room where all for an old habit I do not understand, smiled.

From 1:00 to 17:00 were six entries and the meeting would take place where teachers could hear latest advice from the organizers. I greeted Sally, who received me with great affection as honestly grateful for the "Hi, i am José Luis" as savior in these meetings where hundreds of people have the naive idea that the organizers will remember their faces and their names may relate amid a sea of \u200b\u200bpeople looking for work. After rigorous compliments, gave me a folder and said "follow the instructions." had a form to fill in that moment and another to deliver "the end", I spent a few minutes completing the data, gave the green paper which was marked and I noticed that Sally was already busy attending to another of the cuchucientosmil teachers that we would be meeting that night.

looked a little further and met Philip, my boss, and Carol, the head of my boss (both responded to my requests virtual and evaluations of him as my Director and hers as Superintendent of the school, were part of that added to my file.) The two were also filling out forms (I later learned, with obvious differences in content, recruiters and teachers spend more or less for the same proceedings) and the greetings were more than kind. Philip, English and ironic to the core, made one of those scathing comments that only biting understand (in my case, only when I lose myself in the stressed Shakespearean pronunciation), both gave me their room numbers (if need a recommendation in vivo ") and continued with its thousand paperwork. I got to wander through the hotel lobby until I came back to Sally and, before he was approached by one of the dozens who watched with a face "and now what" I asked, "Sally, I signed, Now what do I do? ". She smiled and said "meet people" and people know I left.

There were two rooms equipped for teachers, in the first, where were the personal folders in which the deemed recruiters and we would ask us messages or appointments, was understandably full of professors who through a stony silence, reviewed papers, books, brochures, looked and looked again, wrote and waited in an almost penitent. "Here no", I thought and I immediately passed to the next. As expected, was nearly empty. Of the eight tables are available, half would be with some people in the same quiet attitude, so focused on their roles as a while ago were colloquial in hallway conversations, did not understand.

I looked around and saw that on the table nearest the door was a single girl, wrote a colorful cards and looking up when he felt my presence, she smiled almost innocent almost true, without showing all his teeth and other dental handing out smiles as he gives them business cards. Her smile was simple and natural, so I reciprocated the gesture and, of course, I sat down. I began to observe others who worked frantically, until Jessica (that was his name as I learned from the laminated cardboard that we all put on the tab) was still in the process of writing something or in some mysterious cards after introduced in an envelope licked the edges with glue gracefully with a slight gesture of disgust and closed his grin remained at the level of the most delicious natural (after I found out that they were cards, one to confirm appointments that had already been done through of the text messages they left on your folder, others to thank "after every interview," "card after talking with each of the recruiters?", "yes, courtesy," "thank you?", "yes, you did not bring yours?" , I looked desolate and understood, "then I'll lend you," he said when we talked for some time and his smile had remained in the range of what must be credible).

Jessica told me she taught music and was searching for a school where we value their work ("For many, art is only a entertainment or a necessary evil to meet the program) and I told him I thought he taught Castilian ("But if I hire to make Swahili in Kathmandu would say yes.) She was laughing heartily with my statement that when the room was invaded by a man in his fifties that he retained a youth arrested in his long ponytail and a graying beard that reminded me that even old hippies Today cross roads in its immense and nostalgic motorcycles. I say "invaded" because, as I had done a while before, came with ease, occupied the space with his presence and gave to copy the ceremonious silence there was necessary. He sat at our table, greeted and welcome (I later learned they had met in line at registration.) What are we talking? Do not talk! was just before two o'clock in the evening and had to settle down there for five hours, so with the impudence of those who know who they are (or suspect with some certainty) we started talking like three friends talking together after a while.

She was a musician by profession, his instrument is the oboe but, as already stated, he works as a teacher (last year there was only one vacancy for an oboist in the country ") to pay for college credit in Lima with which could have been purchased a luxury apartment or study three runs in the best university in the country. waive describe but I will say, for their benefit, that his only fault was a boyfriend who was waiting in another city, forty minutes from Boston and with whom he would marry (marry) in April.

The hippie, hippie was indeed a survivor, studied physics in college and went ten years to research until one day his boss sent him, not know what the exchange program, to teach physics at a secondary school in Tucson and stayed there until retirement newly delivered, which enables him to cincuentaitantos, think to leave to find work in Asia or the Middle East, "to walk, meet and save a little." Marc is called, is frugal, direct, cynical, hate bureaucracy and has the same black humor that Philip, my boss. Is that why we get along so well?

unstoppable The day went without trouble and arrived expected time, we passed, in a huge procession to a very large room where hundreds of chairs awaited us. The first meeting was about to begin ...