Epiphany

What is your favourite room in the world? I know you have one. It's the one where you feel most at peace, most sheltered, most productive, most engaged in your calling — have you got it? Imagine being transported there magically. And suppose that the room also had access to the internet, to a telephone, to a television — everything you needed to connect to the outside world. And your favourite people could come and go as they please.

Picture the peace of knowing that the room is yours for as long as you want it; the peace of deciding to stay in it forever, secure in the knowledge that you can do so. Taste the perfect food that is brought to you, feel the love that circles you.

Now, walk towards the door. Why, you might ask? You are perfectly happy in this room. But I ask you to indulge me and walk towards the door.

Except, suppose that there is no door. There is no way out.

See, it doesn't matter then how much you love the room or how much it suits you if you can't find a door. Your paradise is nothing but a cage.

Now further suppose that a great muse came into your room and told you of a splendid but frightening world outside, and then promptly twisted and vanished into the mist, leaving you to breathe her in dark silence.

That's where this story begins.

In early July, I was lying in my bed, watching the stars move across my skylight and running in circles around my cage, when finally I saw a little secret passage that I had never known was there. I am an online school administrator, yes, but I started as a teacher and a writer, and I was good at these things. I could do them again.

Teaching and writing online is not enough to live off of in Ontario, but it is more than enough to live in a third world country.

Say Zambia.

I had been on the Same World Same Chance Canadian Board of Directors for six months, trying to get my head around the challenges facing curriculum development in a small school near Solwezi, and I was stumped. It was impossible to do from here. If only there had been a way to afford to go over there for a protracted period of time...

But there was a way. I could teach and I could write from Zambia. I realized this at 3:00 am.

At 3:02, I sent an email to Marissa Izma, SWSC co-founder, and asked, "What if I just came there?"

Since the moment she wrote back and said, "Uh, sure...", I have been dedicated to this purpose.

This blog is meant to chronicle my experience with this adventure. I am starting it now because, as I have discovered in the month past, the very experience of giving up a dream job, material possessions, comforts, aspirations, proximity to friends and family to spend money to volunteer in a third world country, is an experience fraught with excitement and surprise in itself. I want to write about that over the coming months. Then, once I'm over to Zambia, I'll continue this blog to let everyone know how I'm doing.

I'd be thrilled if you joined me here. I have a second blog, Brand New Renaissance, that focuses on the sort of educational revolutions in which I'm interested in.

I don't intend to do this, whatever it is, alone. Come with me.