It turns out life does not have to suck.

Last semester when I was interviewing for jobs, after one promising interview with an international school, my friend said my life was about to change. I did 20 interviews total that semester, one or two a day for weeks, sneaking out of my kindergarten at lunch to try to find a place to sit outside and answer the many questions of the 15th school in a row with my laptop perched on my knees, perched on my toes, heels lifted to keep the laptop balanced.

I failed the first interview at the international school. They only had kindergarten positions available. I told them I could grudgingly accept one year in kindergarten to get my foot in the door to be transferred to literally any other grade level. I told them I didn’t love children. I liked them, I said, but I just don’t love them.

I passed on a bunch of other schools. Some were too far away, in remote cities that were nowhere near a hash (see “hashing”, “the hash”, and “hash house harriers” on the internet for more information on this), or areas where I knew the local dialect would win out over Mandarin, where my language development would reach a dead end.

I went to Ningbo to visit two schools in person. One a nice international school where I could have gotten the job instantly had I been able to express any sort of genuine interest in teaching primary school students and hide my obvious concern about being so far away from the nearest hash. I’ve been hashing for 8 years, and it’s become a real part of my life. The socialization, exploration, fun, and freedom are 不可缺少的。The other school in Ningbo was even more remote. The principal even told me “you won’t like it here if you’re a social butterfly”. I don’t think I’ve ever met Chinese hicks before. I wasn’t even sure it was possible. But here we were.

I even went as far as to sign an offer letter with a school in Suzhou, convincing myself that primary school was acceptable. That I could enjoy teaching 4th graders “Bob and Mary kick the ball together”, that a two hour commute on the fast train to Shanghai every weekend for the hash would be okay. Time on the train would be nice study time, I told myself. I figured it would be okay for a year. I should get out of Shenzhen, explore a different part of China.

My very last interview was with a high school here in Shenzhen. It was a last minute surprise interview offer from 30-something-th recruiter I had accrued in my phone contacts and sent the same formulaic introductions, replies, and updates to every few days. I got on the call with my hoodie on, all pretense of any sort of formality stripped away by the 19 interviews that preceded it. I learned that the man interviewing me was the principal of the school. This made me sit up straighter on the security guard booth bench that I had occupied during my lunch break. No HR, no interview manager, no agent representative, just me and the school principal, a Canadian, a fellow foreigner in China.

He offered me the job on the spot. The principal was somehow impressed with my kindergarten background (why though?) and my decade of interpreting experience. He pulled up the school’s pay scale and added my interpreting experience in as an additional 9 years of teaching experience, putting me in at the highest pay grade a new teacher can get at the school. I tried to keep my jaw in place.

As the summer drew near, stress about my work permit and residence permit transition between jobs logistics grew. Messages between my kindergarten, agency, recruiter, and the school’s HR flew through my phone, each ding piercing my nervous system. I became the go between, the messenger, relaying messages in two languages about a bureaucratic system I myself didn’t fully understand, and despite going through every painful detail of it personally, still don’t. The promise of being guided through the process, of being able to sit back and let the high school’s HR take care of it for me, never materialized. No one wanted to talk to each other. Phone calls were left unanswered. Text messages left on read.

Summer vacation drew near and I had no idea what my plans were, or could be. I had received ominous texts from the government that if I didn’t take steps to renew my permits, they would expire and I would have to leave the country and file for a new work visa to re-enter. I had to choice but to let them. My agency listed out to options in my contract. When my contract is up, I can 1) renew with the agency, or 2) leave China. They were not wrong. (Technically (for anyone in the know shouting at their screen right now), I am aware that I did not have to leave China, but my HR at the high school required me to in order for me to be on the same yearly permit renewal schedule as everyone else in the department rather than a six month + 12 month schedule. So there.)

I had some time. I traveled. A week long trip to Yunnan to hike Tiger Leaping Gorge and Shangarila to hike Abuji-cuo, two breathtaking hikes I never could have dreamed I’d get to see in this lifetime. Another week in Guizhou immersed in rice fields, marveling at the stunning majesty that is this planet while shitting myself mercilessly into a squat toilet after drinking or eating some unknown pathogen. It’s par for the course in China.

But finally it was time to handle my affairs. I didn’t want to leave the country. Hopping across the border to Hong Kong for a visa run is not unheard of, but there was still a small chance I would not be granted a visa, and therefore not be allowed back in. I packed my backpack with all my valuable documents and electronics and barely anything else and left China, not knowing if I’d ever return to my apartment again.

My fears, while not unfounded, were overblown. I made it back. The absolute sigh of relief when she handed me back my passport and said to have a nice day in her perfect Hong Kong English, though. I have never been so relieved to cross the Shenzhen-Hong Kong border back into China. Coming back to China always has a bittersweet double-edged type of feeling. It’s a feeling of safety, of familiarity. My apps work here, my phone works, I can scan codes and pay for things. Everything is connected and easy. On the other hand, I’m back in the censorship and firewall bubble. The land of needing to use VPNs, being constantly surveilled and monitored, having to be ever so slightly vigilant and aware of what you say and who you say it to. Everyone’s keeping a little secret, some from each other, many from themselves.

I’ve started my job now. I teach high school English and writing. 10th and 11th grade. I can’t stop smiling. The students are polite and respectful. They wave to me in the halls and say hello. In class I can talk to them. They ask me questions. I can answer them. I tell them what I expect and they do it. It’s as far away from kindergarten ESL in every single capacity as it could be, and I could not be happier.

My coworkers are brilliant, driven, many have their master’s degrees and PhDs. My conversations with them always go something like this “yeah, this is the bilingual school sweet spot. It’s not the pressure cooker of an international school, and it’s not direct Chinese supervision like a public school.” I feel it. The sweet spot. I soak in it. The sweetness soaks into my bones, my heart, my eyes, my brain.

Today was Teacher’s Day and the students walked around handing out flowers and boxes of grapes. Everyone I saw waved and said happy Teacher’s Day!

The 待遇 at this job, to put it bluntly, amazing. My salary is generous and I get to keep all of it. No rent, no utilities, no internet, no bills whatsoever other than my phone bill which is about $6USD per month. That’s right, no rent. My apartment on the sister school (the international campus) is completely free, and nicer than any apartment I’ve had in China and most of the apartment’s I’ve had in the US. I have two balconies, English-language television (not that I ever watch anything other than my phone and laptop anymore), space, quiet, free washers and dryers (unheard of in China), trash, recycling, even composting.

There are multiple handmade guidebooks in my apartment on life in China for foreigners with everything I wish someone had told me when I first arrived here that I had to figure out for myself. There was a welcome basket here when I arrived with snacks, toilet paper, a laundry basket, toiletries, even a handwritten welcome note. In contrast, when I arrived in China, my agency dispatched someone to help me meet a rental agent and translate for me to sign my rental contract. She went with me to several different stores to look for bedding which we could not find. She helped me order it from Taobao with her own money, me promising to pay her back after my first paycheck. I slept on my clothes that night with a towel over me as a blanket.

The treatment is so luxe it genuinely makes me want to live up to the role. I pinch myself every time I remember that the school hired me directly and are my direct employers. There’s no middle man. No one taking a third of my salary. No one telling me one thing and telling the school another. No one smiling to my face and scheming behind my back. The staff here are happy. Fuck, I just started here and I’m happy. They’ve been here for years. One of the 12th grade teachers has been here for 12 years.

My friend turned out to be right after all, my life did change. And my body can sense it too. My nervous system feels more regulated. I don’t feel the need to constantly be out of the house and busy. And guess what? My period came this week. After 7 months, it finally returned.

Thank you to the past me who hooked up her future self. The girl who put in the work working kindergarten full time, doing my teaching program and getting certified, taking my exams and getting licensed, all while maintaining a 2 hour a day gym habit and a two classes plus homework a week Chinese language study. The girl who said she wasn’t going to let one shitty agency define her experience in China. I’m counting on present me to keep hooking up future me, to not let living in this foreign bubble erode my Chinese, to keep being my own dopamine dealer and striving toward my goals. I’m coming hard for my future self.

But right now, in this moment, I’m celebrating. Girl, we did it.