Bittersweet

The first week of online learning went pretty smoothly, other than a few tech issues.
I feel like I've been going nonstop since Monday, emailing, downloading, creating videos, video chatting, conferencing, setting up, typing and going between my laptop, phone, and iPad like a mad scientist.
I made video tutorials and set up activities. I video chatted with all my kids and parents. I read my books, approved a million Seesaw posts, and encouraged them to continue to work hard.
The kids did great in turning in their work, staying motivated and working hard at home, and parents have been so supportive during this transition time.

But why do I feel so sad? I can barely see my keyboard as I type through my tears.

Why does it feel wrong?

Maybe because I'm thinking of all the things we should be doing.

We should be learning multiplication, which they couldn't wait to learn. We should be having recess and sharing silly stories together.

What are you having for lunch Ms. Kang? Wanna hear a joke? Here's a flower for you.

I should be hearing those words. I should be getting those incessant, never ending hugs that prompted me to say, "It's your recess, go play!"

I should be in class cracking corny jokes that they only laugh at and teach them words like flabbergasted just to get a big reaction out of them. And getting grand compliments for my stick figure illustrations.

I should be reminding them to walk quietly down the hall as they say thank you in different languages when I give them hand sanitizer and I respond 'you're welcome' in that same language. Sometimes I remember the made up name they went by one day the class earned a reward to go by a different name.

They should be telling me to have a good lunch, and 'Did you have a good lunch, Ms. Kang?" when I pick them up.

I should be hearing my alarms go off for attendance, recess, computer lab, specials, and countless other things I won't remember unless I hear those tunes.
I should be losing my patience with them only to quickly forgive them with a smile and they say "It's ok, Ms. Kang."
I should be giving them a high five, handshake, or hug and saying, "Have a good weekend."
"See you tomorrow."
"See you Monday."

But it's been three weeks since our last goodbye. And I don't know when I will see them face to face again. We should have had 9 more weeks together in the classroom. 9 more weeks of memories. 3 more field trips. End of year projects and excitement over rearranged seats and published class books and handmade yearbooks. A class picture.

It's like our grieving period and time to say goodbye was taken away; when students leave us for the next grade, it's certainly sad and bittersweet, but we prepare for that. But this. This was unexpected.
All these things make me sad. And despite the good things, I can't help having the bitter seeping in.

But it's only because all the memories we've had have been so sweet. I hope they remember those moments. I hope I do too.

As I reflect and regroup this weekend and as I go into week two, I hope I can let go of what should have been, and focus on what I will do.

I will keep teaching my kids. I will stay connected and love and care and be the teacher they need me to be.

So these may not be the moments I expected to have, but I'm going to make new memories. And when I see my students again, whether it's 9 weeks from now, or in August, I will hug them and say, "I missed you." And I can tell them I'll see them again. Because I will.

Letting Go

It's hard letting go of control.

I don't really like to show my emotions. I'm not sure if that's the introvert (true INFJ here) part of me, or just the way I was raised, but whether I'm happy or sad, I try not to show too much.
But then that becomes a problem when those emotions pile up. Especially the sad and bad ones.
It's only been about 2 weeks since I've self quarantined at home. It feels like it's been months. And the fact that I'm an introvert doesn't mean this is easy for me. Choosing to stay in versus being asked to stay in are very different. Being an introvert doesn't mean I like staying home constantly. Sometimes I like being lost in a crowd at the craft store or bookstore.

This week felt like the longest week ever. In preparation for online learning for my students, I've had a day and a half crash course in zoom, google classroom, hyperdocs, iMovie, screen recording, and other digital resources. I'm trying to think ahead about what parents might need help with or what support students might need. All I want to do is see my kids face to face and be back in our classroom, our beloved safe haven. But I know that's not possible right now. So I push forward, scarfing down 4:00 lunches, taking a quick break outside to check the mail, and lay exhausted at midnight thinking what else I need to do tomorrow. I'm not good at working from home.

But I am slowly starting to take some time and focus on letting go of some control. I can't control technology mishaps. I can't control what students will learn this coming week. I can't control this virus, or the unbelievable hate and racism Asians are getting or constant fears of what might happen. When I try to control something and tighten my grip, things fall apart. I feel like my life lesson from God is always this: Let go. God's in control. You don't have to do it alone.

I have a devotional called The Daily Life by Morgan Harper-Nichols. Today's devotional says:

Some may ask, "How could you believe in God when there's so much going wrong in the world?"

Yes, the world seems to grow darker and darker, especially now with the loss of life and jobs and hope. But God is with us. He is our Deliverer.

So despite this week being CRAZY stressful, there's always some good in everything; blessings in disguise. I realized how much I took for granted:

1. Being able to just drive to ANY store and browse for hours.
2. Talking to strangers. Now, you KNOW I'm an introvert, but I talked to the grocery cashier the WHOLE TIME she was ringing up my stuff. It was great.
3. Restaurant food. I miss it.
4. My school. My classroom. My kids. My sweet, sweet kids who gave me hugs and called my name a million times a day and drove me bonkers and made me laugh and cry and repeat my directions a million times. Ugh.
5. Friends and being able to just hang out.
6. My Korean drama watching parents; all day..on high volume. ;)

All these blessings were in my life, unnoticed. I don't know what next week will bring, but I am choosing to let go of the things I can't control.

New Normal

I'm writing this post way past my teacher bedtime because, well, I can't sleep. Too many thoughts and worries are swirling in my head.

This past week has been a dramatic shift from what we know as normal; things like eating out or traveling have become cautionary or even prohibited. Our new normal now is grocery shopping for essentials only and keeping at least 6 feet away from each other.

This is my spring break, but honestly it's been hard to enjoy. I've tried to clean, bake, and craft the uneasiness away, but thoughts turn to worries about my old parents getting sick. Of not finishing this school year with my kids. I try to avoid social media and the news, but my worries and fears bring me back.

With this viral outbreak also came the stories of racism and xenophobia. Asians that have been hit, harassed, and made into memes for a laugh. As an Asian American I can't help but feel sad and angry; how can people be so ignorant? It's hard for me to understand how people can act like that toward another human being.

Being a teacher, I know the unique responsibility I have to my students. I have a unique perspective to show them how to treat people, regardless of race. A few years ago, I started doing end of year research projects for them to study a country. I'm Korean, but I was born in the states, so I wanted to learn more about South Korea too. So every year, I have them research South Korea. We pick topics to research and I divide them into groups and they take it from there. They show what they learned by making a product; a poster, diorama, powerpoint, etc.

I'm always amazed at how much they learn and how excited they get. I get Korean snacks for them to try and at the end of their presentations, we have a Korean celebration. I've had kids dress up in Korean traditional clothing, play Korean music, and learn to write in Korean. It makes my heart so happy because they really embrace it; maybe because I'm Korean, or maybe because it's fun and new to them. I've had former kids tell me it was one of the most memorable things about second grade.

When I was kid growing up, I never experienced outright racism; I was a quiet, studious girl who didn't cause trouble. But I always felt that underlying prejudice toward being Asian. In second grade, I tried so hard for the teacher to like me, but even at that age, I knew she didn't. She treated me differently than my white peers. I never forgot that feeling. I've had wonderful teachers in my life. They've taught me how to be as a teacher. The few who weren't taught me how not to be.

I'm not a perfect teacher by any means, but these experiences help me to remember how my actions and words affect my kids. And I hope my kids learn that from me. That you cannot judge someone by what they look like. You cannot make fun of what they eat or how they speak. Differences are okay; you don't have to like them or agree, but respect is a human necessity. Kindness is more important than being right.

As a teenager, I've experienced some racism; in high school, I got the "chingchong" talk while they slanted their eyes at me and as an adult I've been called "chink".

But this past year I experienced it as a teacher. In my twelve years of teaching, I've never felt so hurt and angry. It kicked me in the gut; I tried to shrug it off, but it kept bothering me even though I told myself it wasn't a big deal. Only when a friend asked me what was wrong (and I burst into tears) did I realize it was not ok. It's like when there is abuse; you make excuses, blame yourself, or say it's no big deal. But racism needs to be addressed. We need to speak up and say it's not okay to say racially insensitive or prejudice things.

I was so caught off guard, I couldn't even defend myself. But I've moved on. I need to move on. Instead, I write this to make it clear that I am American. I am also a Korean American. Proud of where I come from and my heritage. Even though I haven't set foot on my motherland, I know the food, language, culture, and history. God made me to have that unique makeup and experience that, as a child I questioned and even wished weren't true, but now I embrace. 

Wow, I didn't mean for this post to be so emotionally heavy on race, but it just poured out. I feel a little better getting it out in the open.

On a positive note, I've read posts and stories that warm my heart; people helping those in need like kids who won't get meals from school, a country coming together in song on balconies and rooftops, and random acts of kindness. I hope we can cling to those sentiments, and not the racism.

My break is ending this week, and I'll be thrust into the new normal of online teaching and virtual communication. Wish me luck.

Wash your hands, wash the hate, and cling to those you love. 6 feet away.

Time flies

Wow. My last post (which I just now posted and didn't know I had drafted it) was in 2016!

I'd totally forgotten about this blog until my Pilates instructor mentioned if I had one.  So I decided to log in and 'tickle the ebonies'.

For me, writing (or in this case typing) is cathartic and helps me express my thoughts and feeling much better than speaking. I've always had a hard time expressing myself verbally.. I can't seem to get all the words out of my mouth from my head. It makes sense to me, but as soon as I speak, it's all a foreign jumble.

So I've been going through a rough time in my life. It's where you can't do or say anything to make the situation better. It is out of my control and it scares me. A lot. It takes very little to make me happy. Unfortunately that is true of the opposite; very little makes me upset. When I lost my father at 5 years old, the perpetual question in my head was Why? Why me? Why did it have to happen to me?
And still I ask God.. why? If my life started out with such heartache, shouldn't it be smoother now?

I don't have a clear cut answer. Usually when I write blog posts, I have a clean ending; a nice wrap up or encouraging statement. I have none. This sucks. This situation really sucks.
But I know I have to get through it. I have to keep fighting. Because all the trials I went through since I was 5 years old have made me stronger. Sadder maybe, and more lonely. But undeniably stronger.

What if:
If I could talk to my childhood self now, what would I say?

I would say.. I know it hurts. It's ok to cry. You don't have to hide your tears before you sleep. Being strong doesn't mean you are brittle. Let people love and help you.

My hurt was never acknowledged and I always thought I had to hide all my emotions. I still do sometimes. I realize now that whether you are 5 or 35 (in my case, 36), you'll always have something to work on. Perhaps things will get better.

I'm glad I found my way back to blogging. I might start a new layout soon.. summer?

Summer 2016

Another summer has come and gone. As I get ready for the next school year, I am preparing for my ninth year of teaching. NINTH! I could never have imagined saying that when I started out.

It seems like decades ago I was a fresh eyed (and fresh faced) newbie who didn't know much at all. I think I only survived through naivety, gracious parents, and of course, God's grace.

Still, I envy that time period because I wasn't so jaded back then.

Every year, I feel both apprehension and excitement for the school year. Apprehension because I think of all the responsibility I have as a teacher to help these kids succeed and grow. I think about all the unexpected challenges I'll have to face, the struggles, and disappointments. But I also get excited about kids making strides, connections made, life changes, comradery, school supplies (they make me happy), and just the joy of watching kids be kids.

And every year, I want to be a better teacher. How can I do that? Lately I've been struggling with that question. Have you ever felt that way? When you've done something for so long, you feel as though you haven't changed but the system has. How can I improve myself?

These doubts keep creeping up and I wonder if I'm good enough.

I'm not sure how to answer these questions but I know that I must do what I always tell my kids;

Don't give up. Keep going. Every day you can get closer to where you want to be if you strive to improve yourself.

I hope I can take my own advice and be a teacher that my students deserve. Think positive Minjoo!

Anyway, I haven't really posted many pictures in my blog, so here's a whole slew of them! It was a travel free summer, but a restful one.

Temporarily had pink hair. Wish it had lasted longer!

 Having some fun downtown.

@Snowy village

  I love blueberry picking every year.

 

Scones!

 

 

 

 

 

What can I do?

Yesterday, my view of the world changed. For too long I've been numb to the violence happening all over the world to human beings. When tragedy strikes somewhere else, it's easy to move on quickly or think that it doesn't pertain to you. I am guilty of that. But when it happens in your own city, where you call home, that's when it gets real. And clear. So loud and clear, that the perception of the city you once thought would never display such disregard for human decency is altered forever.

I ask myself, what can I do? I'm one person.
I see all the hate and confusion and brokenness. And I feel helpless because I want to do something. But I am one person. What can I do?

Then a friend reminded me, I am a teacher.

Reading, writing,  math, science, and social studies are subjects I teach. But I also teach my students compassion, friendship, understanding, and forgiveness. They learn how to be good citizens, make mistakes, try again, and even fail. They learn that it's ok to disagree but never to hate each other. Never to be unkind.

I teach them to respect one another. To build relationships and engage with those around them. Focus more on people rather than things. To go outside their bubble and think in different perspectives. Care about others and help those who need it the most.

I want them to appreciate other cultures and celebrate their unique culture as well.
That we are all different, but uniquely equal.

There's a certain burden in knowing that we have the power to make choices that will shape the world which will one day belong to these children. But it's a burden I am willing to bear.
Yesterday, I said my view of the world changed. Because I realized I can no longer stand in the corner and keep wondering what I can do.

I need to make a difference as an educator to these precious young minds who will in turn shape the future for their children.

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater."

Wordy post

Sorry readers. This will be a words only post. I usually fancify my posts with pictures and colors and links, but I just wanted to say how much I needed this fall break.
I don't think I realized how burned out I was. There I was  thinking I was on top of everything and then something would happen and I would crash and burn.  I would get discouraged and think to myself, "Shouldn't this get easier?"  After all I am in my eighth year of teaching so I should be a veteran by now, right?
As a teacher, I feel like a super hero sometimes. Not because I feel invincible or have super human strength, but because sometimes I feel that when I am weak, or discouraged, I don't have the luxury of showing it. I'm supposed to have all the answers and know everything and be on my game all the time. These kids are counting on me. Teachers don't like to ask for help. We want to do it ourselves. Or is that just me?
It's hard for me to remember how I was my first year of teaching. I made lots of mistakes and tried to look like I knew what I was doing. I didn't. I did what all first year teachers did: survive.
But looking back, I envy that naivety. I wasn't yet beat down by the pressure of testing and teaching struggles and people looking down on my profession. A question I ask myself every year: Am I making a difference? Are these kids better off; are they well enough equipped?

I try to tell myself yes. But the nagging voice in my head is saying that I always need to get better.
And that's why I've been feeling so stressed. Because it's hard. Every year.

But this break helped me recharge, refocus, and remember why I chose this profession. Why I love what I do. I love teaching. I love kids. Today was such a good day. I was excited about what I was teaching and all the kids were engaged (for the most part) and on task. I got most of what I wanted to teach done today, which fellow teachers know makes that a pretty good day when you actually teach what you planned (yea!).

And the hugs. Oh those sweet hugs. And the "Ms. Kang guess what" or "Ms. Kang I did this.."
Or "I read a lot over the break." Or when they make connections in their learning. Melts my heart every time.

It's true when they say teaching is really really tough. But the rewards are tenfold.
I'll never forget an email I got from a parent thanking me for teaching his daughter and telling me that all my hard work and diligence would continue to bless her and those around her for a lifetime to come. That's powerful. That's super hero stuff.

So there will be times when I'll be superman with my kryptonite. Or like the Hulk when I'm frustrated. But it's days like this that I feel like I can take on the world. At least my classroom world.