Discovering the Bryarpatch

A stranger told me what to do after I graduated.

Well, she was sort of a stranger - her name was Katie, but I don’t think she knew mine. I was a first year with “rookie” still tattooed on my forehead, and she was a fourth year in my English discussion section with a life to figure out, so naturally we never spoke. One day, though, I overheard her talking to a classmate about her postgraduate plans to teach biology to British boarding school students.

Well hello there, so nice to meet you, I’m Sarah Kate.

As if electrocuted into unabashed sociability, I introduced myself and inquired about the post. She sheepishly grinned, telling me she’d been awarded a teaching fellowship through U.Va. It would allow her to spend a year in the middle of the English countryside, calling students “pupils,” eating crumpets, and wearing tweed (or so I assumed).

For the next three years, the UK Fellows program remained in the back of my mind as a shining opportunity to immerse myself in the land of Austen, Harry Potter, and understated humo[u]r.

The dream did suffer a setback at one point: UK immigration standards at one point instated the "No Americans Working Here Anymore Ever" policy, or something to that effect, thus crushing my aspirations. A few schools, though, wily devils that they were, had managed to work through the red tape.

In the spring of my fourth year, I chased after that opportunity like a dog after a three-legged cat.

My housemates were conscripted into prepping me for interviews, I researched the participating schools' websites as if I were a teenager and they were the latest cinematic heartthrob, and I won’t even tell you how deeply my thesis probably felt the neglect. To avoid putting all the figurative eggs in one basket, I had also looked seriously into moving to Boston and volunteering for a year before law school, but they sent me the most welcome rejection letter I’ve ever received - thank you, thank you, thank you Admissions Coordinator.

After a few interviews, I had the great good fortune to be awarded a teaching fellowship at Bryanston School, a co-ed boarding school for students aged 13-18, located in Dorset, UK.

The school's name also evidently gets shortened from Bryanston to "Bry," hence the awful "Bryarpatch" pun for which I now heartily apologize.

Stupid wordplay aside: I am immeasurably jazzed to learn whatever this year has to teach me. I look forward to keeping a record of the experience, as it may be the coolest thing I ever do.

The blog may include the following: stories, sayings, and customs I learn about while in Britain. It may also include things I miss about my family, my homes (Chattanooga and Charlottesville), and the folks at dear ole U.Va.

Either way, I hope you like it.