I wish I could say to you in English how I feel, how you have made me feel. Smaller than an ant. Like an evil bitch. Speechless. ME. The mouthiest person you will never know, and I am now getting myself into trouble for NOT talking???

Please, let me give you a moment in my life. Just a tad. You go ahead and take your pretty little fanny onto a plane with your wife and three children, all who speak English much less than you, and start a job in an American school. You will probably meet twenty people on your first day. You will be introduced, shake hands, and not even be able to remember who is who, what department they work in, or what their names are. You will be surrounded by words you’ve never heard, gestures you’re unfamiliar with, and you will not know the appropriate response.

You will go home, walk the streets, perhaps one of your colleagues might see you, but you can’t remember who in the flurry of your first few days, when you have been traipsing across town filling out forms, trying to enroll your children in a decent school, and nodding transparently to everyone you meet whose words you cannot comprehend.

You might be just a little, um, COLD. Not because you are a cruel person, not because of the country you come from. Because YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND.

And just like you don’t understand these words I type for you now, you certainly don’t understand me. You have already written me off like I’m dirt, without taking a moment to consider that every moment of my life for the past five months has been either gut-wrenching disappointment and fear or overwhelming confusion. Can you give me a break and consider how difficult this is for me? I am not a twenty-year-old college student whose parents are funding a fun time in Spain. I HAVE PUT MY ENTIRE LIFE ON THE LINE FOR YOU, FOR THIS “JOB,” AND YOU DON’T EVEN GIVE ME A SECOND THOUGHT.

But it’s OK. I’m the one who’s being cold, right?