Glass Out of Masonry

Intellectually, I know that only eight time zones separate Moscow and New York. In an age of jet travel and broadband, this really isn't so far. If I am willing to stay up (and I am almost always willing), I can chat up friends back home. But at times, the distance between Moscow and New York can seem overwhelming.

One of those times came today, when I spoke to a career counselor I had worked with briefly before I left America over a year ago. I met this woman in the oddest way. At some point in what seemed like an interminable and fruitless job search, someone suggested I look into professional organizations in the public relations field. One of the organizations he suggested was a group called Women in Communications. Naturally, I had misgivings about going to what I presumed would be a women-only organization. But after I was assured that men were welcome to, and often did, attend the group for networking purposes, I resolved to go.

The event I went to was held in the Hearst Building. For those of you who don't live in New York, the Hearst Building is about the oddest bit of architecture to be found in the city. When construction originally began on the building in the 1920s, it was intended to be a large skyscraper, like the Empire State Building or the Chrysler Building. But then the Depression struck, and work on the building stopped with only four stories complete.

Fast forward seventy years, and work again resumed on the Hearst Building--but not to build the structure originally planned in the Jazz Age. A new group of architects decided instead to have a massive glass-and-steal monstrosity emerge from the existing masonry building--the new coming out of the old, if you will. For a while, when I worked in a law firm whose offices were located near the construction site, I could watch its progress. But until this meeting, I had never had a reason to go into it. I tended to avert my eyes when I walked by the Hearst Building, because it was truly ugly. I loathe to use a cliche, but on a street of more coherent and consistent buildings, it really did stick out like a sore thumb.

Well, that day, going to the event for Women in Communications, so did I. Looking around, I saw no other males in sight. By this I do not mean that I saw very few males. I mean, I saw not one. Not a husband or boyfriend of an attendee. And certainly not, as I had been told, men in the industry looking to network.

I was beginning to contemplate going home and burying my head in embarassment when this woman, whom I shall call Brenda, walked over to me. We spoke briefly, and I found out she was a career counselor. She apologized for not having any more business cards--I imagined she had given out quite a few that evening--but she wrote down her contact information for me and told me she might be able to help me out.

I met with Brenda only twice before leaving New York. I think that by the time I met her, I had already decided it was time to give up on trying to hold onto my New York life. A person can only bang his head against brick walls so many times before a concussion--or worse--ensues, and I was nearing that point. But nonetheless, Brenda was striking in her helpfulness and professionalism.

Thinking about my graduate school applications and general career aimlessness a few days ago, I bethought myself that it might be a good idea to contact Brenda again and try to get her take on things. Education isn't the field she knows best, but I thought at the very least I could get her to refer me to a colleague who could help me sort out some of my current dilemmas about what to apply to and where to go. And so I e-mailed her.

To my surprise, Brenda indicated that she had several clients who worked in education, including some who, like me, were teaching abroad. I agreed to set up a telephone meeting with her, and tonight we had it.

Mostly, in this meeting, I caught her up on what had happened in my career since I saw her last--which is to say, everything that has happened during the time this blog has been in existence. I told her a bit about my frustrations with being an in-company teacher--mainly, the sense that I am more of an entertainer than a real teacher, that my students don't really have the time, energy, or inclination to study English in a serious way, and that, when all is said and done, I am probably better suited to teaching something else. She suggested a deeper analysis of what type of career I might be suited for, a kind of analysis I wish I had undertaken before I left college. Ah, well. Regret is an emotion I am trying to banish, and so I shall not dwell on this point.

What I hope for most, out of wherever these discussions with Brenda go, is to become a glass building rising out of a masonry foundation. I know I will likely end up taking a direction I had not originally planned or hoped for, but it will be, at last, a real direction--a plan that will result in completion. I think that, for too long, I have treated job hunting as just reaching out and grabbing at anything that looked like a life preserver. Now, I want to treat it as looking for what I really am suited for, so that wherever I go next, it will be something that is well thought out. No more knocking about blindly for me.

I told Brenda that I was mainly looking for a way to establish a normal, middle-class life back home. Though I am glad I have had a chance to come to Russia and see a way of life I would never have seen in Brooklyn, I know that living abroad is not a long-term path for me. I am not jingoistic, but ultimately, my country is home in a way Russia never will be, and I hope to go back to it next year--wiser, more experienced, and ready to resume construction on the Hearst Building that is my life.