Welcome to Chicago --
As I lay in my bed at the hostel in Chicago I'm not quite sure if I'm more or less anxious than I was one week ago. The induction here was ended up being both expected and unexpected. On an administrative level, we were briefly informed of the importance of diversity, filled out gobs of paperwork for schools we'd never see, and some of use were hired while others were sent on rat races of interviews. Alas, I still do not have a teacher placement. The process of finding housing is no less complicated. 200 eager, mostly white recent graduates are shoved within close proximity of one another and over the course of a few days are expected to decide with whom to live with for the next year. The first time the entire corps was together was at Exposure Tapas (not to be confused with expose your tatas, ha, funny), where the same 200 people were crammed into a space designed for intimate dinners for two. The whole affair was loud, sweaty and ridiculously complicated.
Back at the hostel i was jostled into a suite with 10 other guys all of whom were nice, but few of whom I really connected with. Luckily, my actual room-mate Nate and I clicked pretty well and we immediately scampered off to see a movie while everyone was planning on their nights out in Chicago.
The arduous task of hammering out a living situation caused me much anxiety. It's difficult to find someone suitable to live with let alone navigate the treacherous waters of the Chicago neighborhood system. One block may house sushi-munching yuppies while two streets away is a meth house lit by the cigarette lighters of its inhabitants -- a charming lighting scheme, no doubt, but not quite what I'm looking for. After an initial neighborhood crawl with Garrett in which we viewed a few houses in Lincoln Park and Lakeview, I decided that as much as I would like to live in squalor for $800 a month something with more space would be preferable. Though the Logan Square area does not have a starbucks on every corner nor does every apartment appear to be decorated by Pottery Barn, it does have a certain charm (Latin flair?) that makes me feel like I'm in downtown San Antonio again.
I was informed that the rate of drop-out/kick-outs at Institute is 30%. 1 in 3 people will leave Teach for America because someone doesn't think they're good enough, or worse, the person doesn't think they're good enough. I'm scared. Shitless. Literally, I have this phobia of going to the bathroom while others are around.
Anyway -- I got to see a lot of Chicago. I saw three movies and now I'm about to fly to LA to get my ass handed to me. I pray to God that pinkberry will make it all worthwhile.
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