WHAT I'VE BEEN GIVEN

Peeking out from behind the trees is my school, Shinpyeong Middle School. Both this woman with her fields, and my school are about a five minute walk from my host home.

Sunday I took a walk through the woods behind my middle school. The middle school sits at the top of a hill — the highest point in the neighborhood — and just above it sits the wood. A narrow dirt path and steep stairs made of logs and earth meander across the area, each curve harboring a small field or garden. I haven't been in Gumi long, but this is one of the things I know I love: that at any moment urban apartments may give way to farms and you can taste the difference in the air. Above my middle school a farmer is growing pumpkins, red peppers and morning glories, the fields themselves clinging dangerously to the hill.

I was walking here when I saw an insect — something long and scurrying — and I wondered what it was called, whether I could get a better look, maybe take a picture if it was interesting. And as I thought this my second thought was that I ought to thank my uncle, an entomologist, for giving me this interest.

My life so far has been rich with engaged and interested people who have given me so much to think about.

My grandparents on either side showed me that learning is not something stationary, but is happening to us at every moment if we only allow it. They taught me to learn from books and then that books come in many forms — sometimes they look like paper, other times they can be found in fossils or in a single word.

My parents showed me that nature is everywhere you look. They taught me to look at the tree and to ask its name, but also to look at the tree and see its shape and to know the name of the shape that belongs to just that tree.

I think how different my world would be if I were not looking at it, were not reading it through the eyes of my friends and family. Without them, these woods would be much emptier. I am so grateful.

These thoughts come as I am struggling with a difficult life decision. This last week I had several epiphanies. The first was when I realized late one evening that, while I would love to be a professor, there is so much more to consider before going to graduate school. The more I read about graduate school right now the riskier it appears, and while I value finding satisfaction in my work, there are other occupations where I could find that same satisfaction. The second occurred as I was leaving my school Friday afternoon and some students ran yelling past. I realized then that I love my students. I was afraid that I might never have that realization, but I did and I do.

Now, these two epiphanies aren’t necessarily related, but they could be. Both realizations are part of my learning process this year, the stress being on process — something that is intrinsically moving and changing.

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night I never knew I liked the night pitch-black sparks fly from the engine I didn't know I loved sparks I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15930#sthash.f7xpWePR.dpuf

I used to wonder how teachers could find it in them to care about all their students, even — especially — the troublemakers. How could teachers persistently wish for each and every student to succeed? Yet in becoming a teacher I have learned that teachers are always watching. I see my students all the time in and out of class. They are so active, so loud, and yet so often lost in themselves. They're just kids. I want them all to succeed, even — and especially — the ones that cause trouble. I know their behavior isn't about me, but about something they're going through.

It's good to know — as I'm trying to sift through my values and find out where they will lead — that I can still discover things that I care about, things that maybe I didn't expect.

This is a rather scattered blog post, and I apologize, but I think it reflects the scattered state of my mind on these topics. I'm trying to tie these strands together, but I don't know in what shape. Instead I will leave you with these musings from poet Nazim Hikmet.

Things I Didn't Know I Loved
Trans. Mutlu Konuk and Randy Blasing

                    the train plunges on through the pitch-black night
                    I never knew I liked the night pitch-black
                    sparks fly from the engine
                    I didn't know I loved sparks
                    I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until I was sixty
                       to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
                       watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night I never knew I liked the night pitch-black sparks fly from the engine I didn't know I loved sparks I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15930#sthash.f7xpWePR.dpuf

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night I never knew I liked the night pitch-black sparks fly from the engine I didn't know I loved sparks I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15930#sthash.f7xpWePR.dpuf

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night I never knew I liked the night pitch-black sparks fly from the engine I didn't know I loved sparks I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15930#sthash.f7xpWePR.dpuf

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night I never knew I liked the night pitch-black sparks fly from the engine I didn't know I loved sparks I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15930#sthash.f7xpWePR.dpuf

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night I never knew I liked the night pitch-black sparks fly from the engine I didn't know I loved sparks I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15930#sthash.f7xpWePR.dpuf

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night I never knew I liked the night pitch-black sparks fly from the engine I didn't know I loved sparks I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15930#sthash.f7xpWePR.dpuf