p.s.

(Tell me something, do you even look at the acknowledgements in the books you read? I didn't think so; me either. But we understand why they're there.)

My time in Holland and working at ISA can safely be called one of the best experiences in my life. I will feel better if I thank a few people for helping me make it that way. (I will feel just as bad afterward when I realize whom I left out.) Since last November when I started writing Waking Up In Holland, I have mentioned many, many people. I hope that due credit has already been given. I’d like to mention some of them again and few I’ve neglected.

with Gwaz in Heaven

 Thanks to Gwaz who seems to understand my unwillingness to end my career, but I do imagine that my absence was balanced by a six-month-long sense of relief!

Jim and Ev in Den Haag

Thanks to Jim and Eveline for just about everything from being my family far from home to their 

practical advice for living in Holland. It was their big idea that I apply for the job at ISA in the first place.

Susan and Sarah

Thanks to Dr. Ed Greene and Miss Sarah Grace for hiring me to teach at ISA. Thanks to Assistant Head Susan Loban for all her concern, care and intervention. (I still think they should revisit calling someone “head”. OK I’ll stop.) Thanks to the many, many ISA staff members who supplied everything from friendly conversation to direct assistance. I should mention my “reading buddy” Laura Doolittle, the grade two teacher whose class was mentored by mine. (To Andrew, the GQ guidance counselor in the upper school, I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to introduce my wife to you. Did you ever meet her? See?)

Thanks to the many, many strangers who provided answers to my questions. I am on record regarding the anxiety that accompanies getting on a train when you are not absolutely sure it’s the right one! Way back when I decided, whenever possible, if I had to ask someone a question, it would be someone who looked least likely to want to help me. Worked like a charm. Big scruffy footballers, neon-haired Goth-types, businessmen reading their morning papers with briefcases in hand…never once—not a single time—did someone refuse to help. Most times they went out of their way. (I shall never forget the sweet old lady in a Paris underground who walked me to my platform, then waited with me until the train was due to arrive. She didn’t speak English and it wasn’t her platform!) I decided early on that I would do the same for lost strangers whenever I could. I sure know what it feels like to spin a map round-and-round wondering where the heck I was.

Thanks to P.G.C. Hajenius. An occasional Cuban was one of the great pleasures of living here.

Ronan at Hajenius

Thanks to the H-Tel staff. They probably thought more than once when their phone rang or they saw me approaching the front desk, “Uuut, here we go again.” A special mention of Michael: He is a poster-boy for customer service.

Many thanks to all my chums back home who sent me cards and emails. As Cindy has pointed out, living in Europe creates separation on various levels: one is literal and another—so very much more challenging—is psychological. Knowing that your family and friends are thinking about you reduces the proximity. Speaking of that, Gwaz, MLS, Beam and Anna know how much I appreciate the Facetime/Skype sessions.

To the parents of my students: thank you for trusting me with your children. You made an old teacher feel pretty good.

…and to Adi, Anna, Ava, Daiki, David, Emma, Goncalo, Kouhei, Lily, Mitchell, Nicholas, Sara, Sophie, Thomas, Tom, Victorine, Vienna, and Will: We were only together for six months, but you will stay with me all the days of my life. You know how I feel about you because I told you so almost every day. (Am I going to I miss you? Yes! And I won’t change my mind!)

...oh yeah, thanks to you for reading Waking Up In Holland. It's been a gas.