Why? This? Now?

"Are you splitting up?" was the first reaction I got, when revealing I had applied for a position in Poland. To be fair, the person didn't know me too well.

However, the question of why this now? is relevant - if for nothing else, to at least have an idea about the motivation for doing, what you're about to do.

So here we go. 

Professional reasons: I wanted to try out and develop a trait of my professional life by teaching Danish to university students in Poland (Yes! it IS a thing - just like studying Polish in Denmark is). Working in teacher education, I'll get a hands on experience of teaching a second language this way. A kind of walk the walk, not just do the talk. Furthermore, after more than 15 years in the same line of teaching, I needed to push myself out of the comfort zone. And, yes, I've been in this city, this university, this department as a student, so there's also a subtle point of being a Polonist crossing my tracks to the story.

Personal reasons: No, we are not splitting up. Far from (but make no mistake: this would have been jeopardous some years back). The kids are grown now, so pursuing a professional dream of this kind was possible without having to move (or abandon) the whole family in the midst of the childrens' basic education. None of my closest family or friends have expressed anything but support and encouragement. A few more distant friends have reacted in ways that would focus on the significance this would have for my professional profile. Colleagues have been supportive as well - even though we shan't have the daily raport we used to.

Except for very limited areas in life, I guess I've always been a bit unpredictable, surprising or even incomprehensible. I wear those as badges of honour.

"Aren't you just running away from this or that?" is a question I've asked myself many times. Not so much, I think. Or rather - what may start off as some sort of escape, ends up having a goal and a purpose of its own. No action has one simple explanation if you're dealing with the higher levels of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Without the sense of connection and belonging - and especially knowing where you belong - the whole question of self-actualization becomes a risky business. 

Don't jump into the deep end unless you know how to swim.

What's in a name?

Stary Rynek, Poznań

"Oh, so you're a PhD?" the lady in HR said crossing out one title, replacing it with dr. I am now officially dr. Arnfast after moving from Copenhagen, Denmark, to Poznań, Poland. According to local academia, not only should I (and the students even more) use my title to take the place in society that I have earned - it's expected.

Coming from a very informal society when it comes to names and titles, this is a tangible difference between Denmark and Poland. In Danish academia, you won't find anyone using titles unless on grand occasions. In the daily work, it's considered stiff, up-stiffety, unnecessarily posh, a relict from before the youth rebellion (1968 in case you wonder).

At the introductory meeting with the students there was even a slide in the slideshow with examples of how to address academic staff in writing and in speech: magister (mgr.), doktor habilitowany (dr. hab.)(PhD), Mr./Mrs., most honourable Mr./Mrs. The feeling of being not only in Central Europe, but in the center of manifest history is overwhelming. I was happy I didn't crack a joke to the students about only calling me dr. Arnfast once a year.

The Barista

But there was more to come. Another sign of equality in naming a person in Denmark is the possibility of using both parents' names - if they have kept their christian names. So, mine is: first name + middle name (patronym) + last name (matronym). Not here. 

If a woman marries, she may either take her husband's family name, or she may add it to her own, using a hyphen to signify the liason. It's rather common among women with higher educations, and it holds a powerful signature of both social and educational prestige.

As a part of signing my contract here, I've been collecting stamps and signatures from differents offices and departments. It wasn't until I sat in the last office on a Tuesday morning, I realised how my middle name messes up the local systems. There is no box for middle names. If you're lucky, there's a box for second first name. That's it. So, I'm adjusting. Putting away the middle name I took as a pre-teen to manifest the bond with my father. Leaving the Arnfast name to rule my life as a visiting citizen in Poland on its own. It feels a bit like temporarily storing a part of my identity, and I feel the slightly rebellious joy of signing papers using S. to indicate there's more to this dr. than merely Arnfast.