Keep looking.

July 1, Pembroke.

When I was studying the job interview guide provided by the Rhode Island Teaching Fellows it said that you should never say "I don't know" in response to a question and it was all I could do not to scream in return: I don't know!
I don't know how good a teacher I would be, I don't really know why I chose to become one, I certainly don't know that I'll be here tomorrow, I don't know where my children come from and what they will grow up to be, I don't know more than a grain of sand of what I'd like to know about this earth, this world, its poets and its painters and its musicians and its thinkers and wise men, I don't know more than a speck of dust about where we come from and what happens after we die, and if "we" means anything more than I writing now, I don't know many answers but I have endless questions, I don't know how it is possible to say "I know," I certainly don't know the first thing about where I'll be next year, I don't know that I want all the answers, and that the relentless search is not the ultimate goal and all the "I don't' knows" its mandatory feed, the relentless questioning the means and the end and the only thing that counts and I don't know that this is true for anyone but myself.
At this point in the saga I'll just keep looking.