Empty classrooms, divorce, and accepting poverty

Submissions from Trey Erwin, Fabio dos Santos and Dale Davis Murphy

(Submissions to “Navigating the Drift” of stories that make us feel less alone. Stories can bind us. Stories can give us hope. Stories can help us move on. Perhaps by sharing your story, you can help someone else who is struggling.)

By Trey Erwin

Empty Classroom

Early last month, I walked into a mostly empty classroom. A total of four students were enrolled in my course, and only three were present. I began to question my decision to move back to the United States.

In 2022, I returned to the US after eight years of teaching English as a foreign language (ESL) at universities in Colombia and Turkey and took up a full-time job doing the same at a university in Southern Utah. Until last year, I usually had between 15 and 20 students in my classes. Our program, which is self-funded, had a budget surplus. The director claimed that if enrollment ever dried up, we’d have something like a year of full pay before layoffs or a program shutdown would be necessary.

Unfortunately, our enrollment has been steadily declining since the beginning of 2025 mostly due to the current administration’s hostile stance toward immigration. For example, many of my students had been from Ivory Coast, whose citizens now are banned from entering the country. Last fall, we had around fifty students in the program, half of our normal enrollment. Now, it’s less than that. Our director is transitioning into a full-time position with the business school. Our academic coordinator will retire come summer. The rest of us, four full-time and a handful of part-time instructors, see the writing on the wall.

I’ve been searching for a new job for over a year. I emphasize my strengths in relationship-building, communication, and problem-solving, thinking these could make valuable transferable skills for a sales and marketing role. So far, this assumption has not been true. I don’t have any recent experience closing deals or generating reports from a Customer Relationship Management system, so my resume doesn’t pass the first round of screening.

My wife and I have decided we are moving at the end of the spring semester, no matter what. At first, life in a little mountain town wasn’t so bad. Family came to visit, and we took them to Zion National Park and the Grand Canyon. Now, we just feel isolated, as most of our family and friends live in the East or in other countries. We have struggled to make friends and build a community here.

I grow fearful of our impending, albeit self-imposed, deadline. We could stay longer, giving me time to continue my job search from a more secure financial position, but the ESL program is dying, and it won’t be long until my position disappears. On top of that, our mental health is suffering from the isolation.

I don’t like the idea of my wife having to shoulder bread-winning duties alone. I wonder when I’ll land another full-time job with a decent salary. We were so close to being able to afford our first house. That dream will now be put on hold, and for how long, I don’t know.

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By Fábio dos Santos in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (who thinks being 50 is old!)

Divorce

The depth of my struggle hit home in March of 2024 when my wife asked for a divorce after 20 years of marriage. Almost 50 years old, I would become a statistic, another grey-haired divorced man, but how did I get to this point?

There are many reasons, but I’m sure the loss of my former career had something to do with it. Ten years prior to my divorce, I quit a great job as PR manager for a Brazilian health insurance company. The long hours, the lack of meaning in the job, and the writing on the wall of a looming financial crisis were more than enough to justify the decision. Our son was two years old then, and I wanted to be a good father. I wanted to be present.

I had built a solid career until then. I had good jobs and assessments, and a network I thought would be helpful. And last, but not least, I was still a young guy at 38 years old. Well, none of this meant anything to recruiters and HR people.

My options were always below my skill level. Brazil was going through political and economic turmoil. The consequences of it are still felt today, but back then it meant thousands of job losses. Employers had the upper hand. They could cut jobs and reduce salaries.

The following ten years were a roller coaster ride: Sometimes things were good, but a few weeks later they were miserable. My mental health was under constant strain. I became a boring person to be around, someone who had a dark cloud hanging over his head. No wonder it ended up with a broken marriage.

The breakup happened during a time I was studying to apply for a position in the Brazilian public service. In Brazil, most state jobs require high scores on exams to fill competitive positions.

I handled the breakup by isolating myself, a good choice for someone who had so much reading to do before an exam. The more challenging the situation, the quieter your mind should be. We live in a noisy world. It’s a good idea to take some time off to fight your demons. You may not defeat them, but you’re able to live with them, as long you don’t deny their existence.

Finally last year I secured a job in one of the most important public institutions in my country. I’m an old man now — I turned 50 in October — and somehow, I found the energy and motivation to beat the competition and win my new role. It’s too late to save my marriage, but we are still great friends. I truly hope that I still have a few more years to live an OK life so that I leave things settled for my son, José, in the future.

I’m proud to say that despite the job struggles and the divorce, I have been a good father.

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By Dale Davis Murphy

Things Could Be Worse

I had to drive for Door Dash to survive until a lady in her SUV hit my open door as I stopped at a curb to pick up some food. I was guilty because I was inside a yellow line because we lose money and get demerits for being too slow. I’m 77 years old. I quit Door Dash that day since it cost me a third of my yearly profits. It wasn’t worth the danger! I’m the sole supporter of my 38-year-old son who has Asperger’s syndrome and is a theoretical mathematician. We are examples of what is happening to many formerly middle-class folks.

I grew up in a very small southwest Georgia town of 5,000 people in the 1950’s, when there was little money and lots of hope. The truth is that once you accept poverty it’s by far the better system than hurrying out to lose ground anyway. I have enough social security for us to eat three out of four weeks a month. We are making do. It’s amazing the corners you learn to cut when there are zero solutions.

We are both highly educated humans — and it’s just like my joyful childhood. Reading books we own from better days in our huge library stored in a tiny trailer we might lose to the next hurricane!

I remember a hilarious sign my father had in his one-man printshop. It was a picture of Auguste Rodin’s “The Thinker” and the poem accompanying it goes like this: “Once as I sat sad and lonely, a voice came to me out of the darkness saying, ‘Cheer Up! Things could be worse.’ So I cheered up — and sure enough — things got worse.”

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Story Ark

Finally, Leonie Joubert is traveling Southern Africa with her co-pilot kitties, Mouse and Birdie, to document climate tipping points in the region. It is her way of finding a way to do important journalism as the industry shrinks. As her rearview mirror ornament says, she is “Brave As Fuck” and I am rooting for her.

Please check out her work:

(Story Ark)

(Story Ark: one year, 20,00km and countless words down... many more to go)