From the start, the work was intense. Their typical day ran from 8 a.m. to after 9 p.m. and often didn't end there. "Our home was a kind of continuation of the school, really," says Mackarness. Money was so tight that they sometimes shared a paycheck. Still, before long, the business started growing. After only its first year, enrollment nearly doubled, 390 students graduated, and more than 80% got jobs overseas. And there was another good omen: referrals accounted for almost 40% of new students.
Mackarness's curriculum was partly what set Transworld apart. Unlike other programs, Transworld's focused on how Americans learn most effectively--through the use of everyday language and short intensive programs stressing class participation. Tom Kane, a visiting scholar at Harvard University who also works without pay at a competing language school, credits Mackarness with having pioneered that type of training in the United States. "Her course book was excellent," says Kane, who notes that schools across the country have since copied her teaching methods.
For his part, Notley, with a background in theater, thrived as a salesperson. While competitors stressed classroom content, Notley marketed the teaching certificate as the first step in an overseas adventure. He filled the company's brochures with pictures of graduates and the postcards they dashed off from exotic locales.
Part of what drew people to Transworld was its laid-back, upbeat class atmosphere. Housed in downtown San Francisco in a gingerbread-style Victorian with a rooftop area for hanging out, the school was nestled among bustling cafÉs and sat atop a pub, where students and employees often socialized. As with many start-ups, hierarchical lines were blurry, and procedures for handling the dozen employees were nonexistent. "We tried to do things for people when we could," says Mackarness. "We would take them out for a meal or have them over to our house for dinner." When Mackarness and Notley tied the knot, a year after they had started the business, several employees attended their wedding. The staff was so close that Notley would drive teachers home at night, and the couple regularly received letters and cards from staff members. "Many, many thanks for being so understanding and for teaching me so much these last couple of months," wrote former teacher Robin Niemeyer. There was relatively little turnover among teachers. Some left to travel but came back to work at Transworld when they returned.
Former students also stayed in touch. "When people came back into the country, they would always come by, hang out, want to just sit around and talk," says Notley. Some dropped by and left with jobs. In 1994 former student Michael Fix showed up at Transworld without a job or a place to live. Mackarness hired him to manage the guest house for foreign students, giving him a rent-free home. Later, he worked in admissions as Notley's assistant. "As far as I was concerned, it was one big happy family," says Notley.
But the trouble with families is that there are no secrets. In 1992, when the couple's personal life started falling apart--Mackarness's father died, Notley's twin sons were having problems, and the pair's marriage was shaky--the staff knew it all.
Partly it was obvious because Notley felt no need to hide problems from the staff. Wanting to help his kids, he hired them to paint the school. Shortly after, he fired them for failing to show up. And the staff could hardly avoid knowing about Mackarness's father, who had been a local radio personality and a familiar face at the school. Even if the staff missed the obituary, they couldn't have overlooked the 30 pounds Mackarness quickly shed from her petite frame. "Unfortunately, our private lives spilled over because we were hit by so many things at once," she says. Though the two kept their battles over personal spending to themselves, the staff couldn't help deducing that Transworld was short on cash. The couple frequently asked them to come up with low-cost advertising schemes and to help find investors.
The Transworld clan extended beyond the immediate family of employees, trainees, and immigrant students. All the outside investors--who got financial updates on an ad hoc basis--were relatives, friends, or acquaintances. The founders' parents lent money. Steve Swire, who was dating Mackarness's best friend, says he invested without bothering to calculate the potential return. Another outside financier, Colin Morris, invested as a favor to Mackarness when her father was ill. Having served as Transworld's business manager for more than a year, he well knew how long it would be before he could expect a return. Still, he put in $20,000 in return for 26.2% of the company's equity. "He felt sorry for me. He said, 'You don't need more stress. The business needs more money,' " says Mackarness. She doesn't let what happened later color her gratitude. "Colin did it as an act of friendship," she says firmly. "And I'll always be appreciative of that."
In Transworld's formative years, the founders' easygoing style seemed to be working. Revenues rose to more than $300,000 in 1992. By 1993 the company had $550,000 in sales. Notley and Mackarness didn't concern themselves with profits--not that there were any. For them, financial obligation meant signing paychecks.
