Just Go With It

I do not like going to the movies by myself.  It’s true.  I believe the distaste for doing so began when I saw 27 Dresses by myself on a Friday night—I know, I know, that was just plain stupid.  I remember feeling like a lonely loser, only, at the time, I had a boyfriend.  He refused to see the movie and I said, “Fine, I’ll go alone.”  That was the first and last time I went to a movie by myself.  That is, until tonight.

Sitting in my apartment, I realized I had run out of things to do.  Nap?  Check.  Eat? Check.  Watch horrible Irish soap operas?  Check.  Do some Facebook stalking (oh, come on people, we all do it)?  Check, check, check.  I had a sudden craving to watch something American, and seeing as I do not have a DVD player here, I realized I would have to go to the cinema.    So, just like I would at home, I threw a bottle of water and a package of gummies into my purse and headed out to watch Just Go With It.  It felt good to see the familiar faces of Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston.  The movie ended up being quite good, actually.  Completely predictable, but that’s how I like it.  I sat in the theater, feeling comfortable with being by myself.  After the movie, I slowly meandered in the direction of my apartment, enjoying the brisk spring evening.  As I lifted my face to the sky, I closed my eyes and realized something—I am at peace here.

My brother said to me once, “You can’t stand to be alone.  You can’t stand to just sit with your thoughts.”  For so long, this was very true.  I have always kept myself extremely busy, often times spreading myself too thin.  And, in many ways, I think that this was a way of running away from myself—go so fast that you can’t stop to process your thoughts.  Coming to Ireland has forced me to slow down and sit with my mind.  I eat breakfast, dinner, and lunch with myself, I go running with myself, I ride the bus with myself, I go shopping with myself, and now I go to the movies with myself.  I am my sole companion and, in the process, have gotten to know myself in a way that I never thought possible.  That is not to say that this has not come without moments of sadness and self-pity.  But when I start feeling sorry for myself, I stop and remember how lucky I am to be here.  So many people dream about doing something like this—there is much to be grateful for.  And this state of aloneness is necessary.  Had I come to Ireland with a friend/boyfriend/husband, this experience would be completely different, and probably not nearly as profound.  It would be corny to say that I traveled to Europe to “find myself,” but, like it or not, these experiences do tend to lead one down the road of self-discovery.  And then I remember my family and friends back home.  Being alone is so much easier when you know that you have an incredible support group like I do.

It turns out seeing a movie solo is not so bad, after all.

Ugg Boots and Sperry Loafers -- It's All the Same

I just realized that I have gone this entire time without actually explaining why I am in Ireland.  I am completing my masters in education and I have come to Ireland to do my student teaching in the local Catholic all-girls secondary school.  Considering I am not Catholic and had never stepped foot inside a single-sex school before, coming here was certainly a transition.  But let me tell you, the students are incredible.

The first day in one of my classes, I had an out-of-body experience.  My cooperating teacher had not yet arrived, so when I walked through the door, the students were sitting on their desks, eating snacks, and chatting away.  As soon as they spotted me, they immediately jumped to their seats, put their bags away, and waited quietly for me to approach the front of the room and speak.  I had never experienced anything quite like this before.  At first the students were little shy around me, but as they became more comfortable, they wanted to know all about America.  And what were they most curious about?  Cheerleaders.

“Miss, do you really have cheerleaders in America?”

“Do they wear their uniforms to school everyday like they do on television?”

“Do they only date the jocks?”

They listened with fascination as I described what cheerleaders in America were really like.  It had never dawned on me that there are no cheerleaders in Ireland.

“Oh, I want to be a cheerleader!” one girl sighed.  Several others also sighed in unison.

“Miss, were you a cheerleader?” another asked.

I paused for a moment—should I admit to it, or should I say no? 

“Yes,” I replied finally.  All the girls erupted with joy.

And I have gotten some other funny questions, including, but not limited to:

“Miss, who’s your favorite singer?  Is it Justin Bieber?”  (She was quite disappointed when I told her that he was not.)

“Do teenagers in America look older than us?  They look so old on My Super Sweet 16.”

“Do you just eat fried chicken in Kentucky?”

“Are there really ‘cliques’ in American secondary schools?”

“Have you ever met anyone famous?” (I don’t think they quite realize that Kentucky is not exactly California).

The other day, one of the girls asked me how Irish teenagers are different from American teenagers.  My answer?  Not very.  Just like back home, Irish teenagers wear their Ugg boots and Sperry loafers, giggle incessantly about boys in the halls between classes, sneak their phones into school, gorge themselves on candy, roll up their uniform skirts when the nuns aren’t looking, and are constantly fighting for their right to be independent.  It’s comforting to see that this is all a part of growing up, no matter where you’re from.  And I love that I can have a part in this stage of their lives.