Back in the Trenches: Subbing

For my ESL job, I primarily deal with test writing and the editing of text books. Hidden in all the fine print of my job description is that I should be open and willing to take on other tasks for the company, as needed. My first day on the job—my first minute on the job—I was thrown into the lion’s den, working the front desk and acting as the first point of contact when people walked in or called. Although the danger? threat? prospect? of stepping in to teach a class loomed near, I was able to somehow avoid the call. That is, until last week when I got an email from my boss asking me if I would sub for a week to replace a teacher that just wasn’t working out.

There was no way I could say no. And, to be honest, I didn't really want to. Sure, my last teaching experience wore down my spirits and tarnished my outlook in teaching English overseas, but now that some time has passed, I began to miss teaching. Or at least, interacting with students. Although I am at the centers 4 days a week, I sit in my office working on computers and with books and I don't interact with any of the students that pass my door on a daily basis.

Thus, I went home on a Tuesday evening armed with books, curriculum for the week, and a tentative lesson plan for the next day’s class. And I was up and teaching intermediate English the following day from 8am to 11am.

I could not tell you just how nervous about subbing. My natural disposition is to be nervous and I was never able to quell those first-day jitters as a student, never mind as a teacher. My butterflies were compounded by the fact that I was completely unfamiliar with the texts, the classroom, and how the center likes to run its classrooms. I arrived not knowing how many students I would have in my class, what resources I would have at my disposal, or even what the attendance policy was. That many unknown factors practically spells DISASTER for teachers because that means parts or even the whole of their lesson plan could fail and then you're left scrambling. It's one thing when I find out that something in my lesson plan doesn't work when it's my class, because I know the material and the students and can figure something out on the fly. But to be left floundering in front of a class is never good. Especially when you're a sub. You have to overcome so many things going against you before you even walk into the classroom.

Besides not knowing all the things about the class that their regular teacher would know, you have to work hard to gain their trust and hopefully, respect. The older the students are, the harder it is to get them to put their faith in you that a) you know what you're talking about, b) that the work they're doing in your class does count, and c) despite you being a sub, you care about the students and will support them for as long as you're there. In my case, it was all of these things, plus the fact that they had just gone through a teacher who didn't deliver. If anything, walking into the classroom last week I had more distrust going against me than usual.

I subbed for 4 days. The first day, as always, was the hardest, and I thought each day was better than the last until the last day when I had to say goodbye to them. They were all surprised that it would be our last day together, and while they voiced their disapproval, "Why do you leave us?" "Why do we keep changing teachers?" I knew they were also nervous about the teacher who would come after me. It's never a good thing to keep changing teachers on students, it's so disruptive. And I really felt for these students; I wouldn't want to keep adjusting to a new instructor every week. But I think the new teacher will be the one that sticks.

And I had soo much fun with the students. They were so diverse (lots of south americans and europeans, but just a few asian students!) and I loved seeing them learn from each other. They were so great and I honestly couldn't have asked for a better group of students to spend a few days with. I got a few compliments on my teaching and that made me happy because I really tried hard for them as I wanted them to have a good experience coming out of their time with the previous teacher. They could have been trying to be nice, but I appreciated the words nonetheless.

Long story short: I forgot just how exhausting teaching is! To be so mentally engaged for hours at a time! I was mush afterwards! But I also forgot just how much I actually do like being in the classroom. I'm not looking to go back in as a full-time thing just yet, but it's nice to return to every once and a while.

Thoughts from CA: These are my people!

One of my favorite traveling experiences happens whenever I get to the gate in an airport terminal that leads me home. There are few things I love more than arriving at that gate and settling into a pleather seat. Yes, it is literally the gateway that will lead me home, but more than that, I love being surrounded by other people also heading to San Diego. 

I've been on a lot of flights bound for San Diego, and even within California itself, there's nothing quite like the feeling of the people who are on a flight bound for my hometown. Maybe I'm a bit biased here, but people just feel friendlier, seem happier, and are visibly excited. Also, there is an energy in the air that is less crazy and more relaxed, as if everyone is collectively breathing a sigh of relief for making it back home. 

Of course, there's still the crazy. Being the tourist city that it is, you do get the people who are flying in for a visit, those who are, of course, welcomed, but they inhale when the rest of us are exhaling. I've been asked this so many times about what is particularly interesting to do or see in San Diego, but that's not it. The best thing about San Diego isn't what you do there, it's being there. It's a state of mind. 

So when I arrive at the gate and see all the other people waiting to board, I like that moment when I settle into the atmosphere of people like me, hearing their conversations of the times and places all of which I know intimately, which I carry with me wherever it is that I go.

NYC heatwave

It has been freaking hot.

Temperatures in the 90s with high ass humidity. Temperatures at night still in the 80s.

Simply put, it has been miserable.

And New York being what it is, there's quite often no central air. I've had to go without AC before, but I've never had to try to sleep without it. It makes sleeping at night nearly impossible to do.

I remember last summer in Korea, the AC unit in our classroom broke, and after break I came back to the classroom there was christmas music blasting, a youtube video of snowfall was playing on the projector, students were drawing snowscapes on the white board, and everyone was eating ice cream. It was all an attempt to get their minds thinking that it wasn't hot, that they were experiencing the cold of winter and not the oppressive heat of summer. I got free ice cream out of it and a great memory. That class in particular was a joy to teach.

the TIME CAPSULE: a good kid/ FB adventure

Around 10 years ago, a small group of my friends got together and did something which I consider to be the greatest thing we've ever done as a collective group (besides choosing to be friends with each other): bury a time capsule.

The four of us were coming upon our last year of high school and, as anyone can attest, it is a time of solidarity with your peers, of excitement for the future, of wanting to hold on to the past. Although I don't know whose idea it was to make the time capsule or the details of how it all came together (I have a strong feeling that we were inspired by an episode of Saved by the Bell, you know which one I'm talking about), one night my friends Sonya, Sadaf, and I gathered at our friend Stacy's house carrying armfuls of stuff we wanted to include in our time capsule.

I couldn't tell you really all the things I personally included, but I remember we all cut off a section of our hair (WHY) and wrote predictions about where we thought we would be when we finally retrieved the time capsule in 10 years time. I have vague memories of saying that I would be in a producer's chair in 10 years and that our missing-but-ever-thought-of friend, Joanna, would be wearing bonnets and sundresses and have a small army of children.

We put everything in 1 small tin box and 1 cardboard box, then put the boxes in a garbage bag--totally secured from the elements, I know. Dressed in all black like the cliche we were, we piled into a car armed with two shovels, flashlights, and the time capsule.

We drove to our high school campus. Under the cover of night we buried the time capsule under 2 inches of dirt--the place we decided to bury it had concrete-like soil that was impossible to break through, and then the sprinklers went on and we gave up trying to trying to dig deeper when we were getting soaked and water was entering our shallow hole in the ground.

And that was that.

Flash forward 10 years and the four of us are back together again in San Diego for Stacy's wedding. Much like our former selves, we dressed in black but convened at my house this time to not only dig up our time capsule, but also to make a new one!

We tried to include tokens of the things we'd done and experience over the last 10 years. I threw in some small trinkets from my travels in Southeast Asia, some photos, and the moleskine I used when I first got to Korea--as in, THE moleskine. You travelers know the significance of that moleskine and can only imagine how hard it was for me to part with it.

And now for photos in dark lighting:

Getting the new time capsule ready

Sonya and Stacy going through Stacy's "FB box" full of the best stuff from our high school days.

This is an example of one of the shirts we would make in high school. This one is the "LOVER" shirt. 

On the front, it says "What a lover." On the back is a GIANT list of all the people we considered "lovers"-- attractive and desirable guys, and not our real lovers, because I think I'd keep having Orlando Bloom as my lover a secret and not publicize it on an iron-on shirt thank you very much. 

Lab reports.

Sonya's drawing of JC from Nsync that she gave to Stacy. 

The one on the left is FREDDIE, the senior boy we loved as freshmen (although Graham was way hotter). For one morP he wore a pig costume, and he was in an airbands group called "Kids Incorporated." This was made by Sonya, but we don't know who the person is on the right. 

This time around we threw everything in plastic in plastic in plastic and loaded up the car to headed over to campus. 

 The new time capsule! Hopefully it withstands the elements and years better than the first one!

It was so bizarre and hilarious going back to our old high school as 27/28 year olds. So much has changed and we had no idea if the school had upgraded its security, if the fences and gates would be locked, or what we would find when we got there. There was an air of uneasy nervousness as we drove onto school grounds, and it was such a dramatic contrast to 10 years ago when we were fearless and the atmosphere was predominated by the feeling of reckless excitement. We kept thinking about what we would do or say if we were somehow caught, and it occurred to us that we had more to lose this time around, or, I should say, something to lose this time around (we had nothing as 17/18 year olds).

After much ado, we gathered our supplies, parked our car in the shadows, and slipped onto campus towards the spot that contained our time capsule. To be honest, I had high doubts about being able to find it again. We weren't sure if it had been found (it was only covered in 2 inches of dirt, mind you), and after like an hour of solid digging, our hands blistered from the wood of the shovels, constantly fearing getting caught, and AGAIN, the sprinklers going off on us, we started to doubt if maybe we had remembered incorrectly and were digging in a completely wrong spot.

The dirt was still concrete-like, and there were all these crazy roots growing everywhere, and more than once Sadaf got frustrated and started ripping out roots with her bare hands. We were at the point of giving up when Stacy suggested digging under this particular root that we had ignored earlier. I dug in and there was a flash of white.

It was like the a choir of angels started to sing.

Immediately we got down into the hole and using our hands, we discovered the white plastic bag we had used to put our boxes in! Finally prying the very worn time capsule from the jaws of the earth, we threw in our new time capsule, covered it up again with 2 inches of dirt, and very tiredly made our way back, happy in our discovery.

And a discovery it was.

Sonya said it best, I think, in likening our time capsule to the remains of the Titanic.

Everything was disgusting and reeked like 10 years of neglect and copper pennies. Water had destroyed and aged much of what we had included in the time capsule. Our letters to ourselves and our predictions were fused together and were unable to be separated and read. We picked through the time capsule like vultures a carcass, trying to find anything worth having. Oddly enough, we did find our hair (disgusting), and the things that survived the most were pictures of nsync that had heavy-duty lamination!

As disappointed as we were with how poorly our time capsule survived over the years, overall it was a great adventure and I'm so so happy that we had the brilliant idea to do this when we had nothing in our heads as youth about to set-off into the world. But more than that, I'm grateful we're all still friends and were able to successfully retrieve the time capsule!

On New York, Publishing, and the Future

I've put off posting about this until I gathered my conflicting emotions and thoughts enough that I could sit down and write something that would make sense.

I've seriously been contemplating the future of my life here in new york and in publishing. I had planned to intern until october, giving me half a year at the agency, before I'd strike out on my own and get that coveted publishing house position. Over the course of the internship, it became apparent to me that that probably wouldn't happen. The first reason being the work that I do now is similar but not exactly the work that happens in a publishing house. As it stands, I have no idea if I'd even like the work I'd do at a publishing house. Being inexperienced as I am, I'd need and want to do another internship with a publishing house. Only that living in new york and doing another unpaid internship just isn't financially feasible or responsible for me at the moment.

Not the mention that before I left for New York, I had opportunities in California similar to my current internship. Complicating things further is this overwhelming need to be in California--nothing against New York. All things being considered, it makes sense for me to go back to San Diego to get more experience before venturing out and (hopefully) making my way back to New York or San Francisco.

When I first thought about going back to California I also saw it as giving up my interest in publishing and I was seized with the thought that no, I wasn't ready to put this dream aside just yet. It's like when you flip a coin to make a decision and in the moments that coin is in the air, you suddenly know exactly what it is that you want.

I haven't decided exactly when I'd leave, but the earliest would be the beginning of September and the latest the beginning of October. In the meantime, I just need to make sure I have things lined up for me when I get back to CA. I have a few ideas, but I'll have to do a bit more research.

It's been a crazy but informative journey thus far, and I hope things pan out in the best way possible.

Thoughts from CA: A Feeling of Home

I've written at length at how worried I had been about coming home from Korea to find that my hometown no longer felt like my hometown. It might have been born out of necessity, but in the weeks and months leading up to my final departure from the ROK, I was so looking forward to coming home and experiencing all that was good and comforting about my hometown. I was eager to celebrate everything that was different from Korea and Seoul. And I wanted that elusive but intimate feeling of belonging. I mean, I was about to turn in everything I had going for me in Korea and travel thousands of miles away... there had to be something to make it worth my while. I did try, I swear I did, to temper my enthusiasm so I wouldn't feel too disappointed when the romanticized idea of my triumphant return didn't pan out to be what I wanted it to be. But as with everything, hope survives.

And so it should come as no surprise to anyone that the reality of my homecoming was slightly different that my expectations. My biggest worry--that I would not actually feel that sense of belonging--came true and I felt strange and awkward in my hometown. I felt too big, too fast, too loud, and the city too small, too quiet, too slow. I was out of sorts.

I didn't want to move to New York. That wasn't the plan. I wanted to sink my heels in California and start to build my life there. So I wasn't thrilled to come to New York, but I am so so glad I did. As with all travels, you often discover the most about yourself through the unexpected and the unplanned, and sometimes you end up being in the place you didn't know you most needed to be.

It was a couple days into my week in California, during the rehearsal dinner for wedding #2, and the bride-to-be's father and the groom-to-be were giving short speeches to all the family and friends that had gathered in the big room of a local restaurant. That intimate warmth of family and friends--of belonging, of happiness and joy, of home--permeated the atmosphere that made smiles and laughter contagious among all our faces. It hit me then, so profoundly and so assuredly, the feeling of belonging that had eluded me until then. It wasn't my family that I was surrounded by, but in a very real way, I was. These were people to whom I had a lifetime of connections with, people who rooted me to San Diego and made the place come alive. No matter where my travels took me, they gave me a reason to always come back home, they kept my feet grounded in a place that was real; they didn't let me float aimlessly forever. Finally, finally, and I was overcome with gratitude that I still had a place here. That I still belonged.

I also realized that I'm grateful to New York. As much as I felt out of sorts in San Diego, I felt nearly at home in New York. People are often surprised that I am not head over heels in love with New York, or that I am not, at the very least, amazed or impressed by the city. I am, frequently and often, impressed by New York. New York is a very impressive place. But for me, New York has served as a transition city and has been instrumental in my reacclimatization. It's a big enough city to make me feel small again, and gives me all the luxuries I had grown used to in living in Seoul, and yet, it is still in the US. I don't think there's another city in the US that could have helped my with my reverse-cultural shock in the way that New York has. I credit me returning to equilibrium as quickly as I have to being in this city. As I said, it was exactly where I needed to be.

That being said, I am so in love with California. This time around, I was really able to take in everything about my hometown and feel immensely attached to it. As many times as I've boarded planes at the San Diego International Airport to leave it all behind, I have to say that stepping through security this last time to come back to New York was one of the hardest trips I've had to do. I wasn't ready to go; I didn't want to leave. I had just reclaimed my love for CA and been claimed by it, and I honestly toyed with the idea of just not getting on the plane.

So where does that leave me? I feel like now, everything is geared towards finding my way back in California. It's the place I so desperately want to be.

Before Midnight (and Sunrise, and Sunset)

Going off of my last post, I should say that I have also recently watched "Before Midnight," the third movie in a series of the BEST MOVIES EVER. "Before Sunrise" and "Before Sunset" being the first and second movies, and the second installment being my favorite. Nothing happens in these movies. It's just two people talking for 90 minutes. BUT I can't even begin to say how these movies, in particular "Before Sunset," have influenced my thoughts on magic in the universe, beauty in the world, and love and the complexity of relationships. I highly recommend them because they just embody everything about falling in love, risking for love, and staying in love.

"Before Midnight" is out in theatres now and even though the trailer makes it look so crappy, it is BRILLIANT. Rotten Tomatoes has it at a 98% rating and it's definitely worth watching in a theatre.
I'd be interested to see what other people, seeing the films for the first time, take away from them, so if you are so inspired to marathon the first two and go out to see the third, let me know :)

For your enjoyment, here are the trailers for the three films in one handy youtube video:

Thoughts from CA: Weddings & Saying "I Do"

It's amazing how when you are on vacation, you are frequently bombarded with a million ideas for blog posts, but the second you settle down back at home, vacation completed, you've suddenly lost all will, desire, inspiration to write a single thing. I chalk it up to the unbearable realization that you're back in the sinkhole of reality. And even if you do get down a handful of words, it all sucks.

But what I actually want to talk about in this post are the thoughts about marriage that crossed my mind over the week where I was a bridesmaid for two different weddings of dear friends. Don't worry, I haven't caught wedding fever (HAHA) but I couldn't help but think about husbands and marriage and life partners when I was literally surrounded by all of it.

The first wedding was held at Bernardo Winery in RB, and it was all that was intimate, charming, rustic, and joyful. What I loved about this wedding was that everything had meaning to the couple, and it truly felt like a celebration of the love between two people. For example, the couple met during college when they joined an a capella group and for the ceremony, the group reunited and sang the entrance song for my friend as she walked down the aisle. It was a beautiful and fitting rendition of "She's Got a Way." I also really loved the groom's wedding vows. I think the bridesmaids cried the most during his vows. They were so lovely.

The second wedding was held in La Jolla, at a venue overlooking the beach, and it was stunning and elegant, and really emotional. I was just destroyed during the whole ceremony AND reception-- this was the marriage of one of my oldest and dearest friends. I remembered how we'd talk about weddings back in middle school, then witnessed the couple's courtship of 7 years, and then to be present on their wedding day. It was surreal to see everything come together over the years. Every single person who talked during the ceremony or reception gave such brilliant words, combined with the fact that it was such a family affair, and the emotions were just running high that day. It wasn't all tears and sobbing though, as we definitely pulled ourselves together to have the most epic dance battle to have ever taken place. BOOM.

But this post isn't just to talk about how great these weddings were.

I've found that over the years I have, and I think rightly so, come down off that cloud where weddings are the be-all and end-all. I used to romanticized everything about marriage and weddings, way back when I didn't have a clue about what it would take to actually reach an altar, much less maintain a marriage. I mean, I used to want to be a wedding planner, for crying out loud, and that was way before Jennifer Lopez brought attention to it in the movie, fittingly titled, "The Wedding Planner" (still love Massimo though!).

I am not one to poo poo on the ideas of marriage or weddings. I can enjoy and be present and happy for couples; I am always about celebrating love between people and it is beyond me to comment on what others choose for themselves (as long as they have the choice). But what I have come to realize over the last few years, and what was really confirmed for me this past week, is not that I don't believe in marriage, but that I just don't think it is for me.

Let me back up a bit.

When I was younger and more optimistic, I thought that I would be married by 23 (OMG) and knew the what, where, when of my whole wedding. The Who of it all was the least of my worries. As I got older, and after I passed my 23rd birthday, I didn't give any thought to marriage or a wedding. I was busy. I was studying. I was working. I was dreaming. I was traveling. And then one day I came to realize that a LOT of my friends were getting engaged and marrying their long-time boyfriends, and I hadn't even thought about any of that in years. That I couldn't even invision what my wedding would look like now, at the ripe old age of--my late 20s. There was nothing. No color schemes, no themes, no venue ideas, no flowers, nothing. It was a far cry from 15 years ago.

During the two weddings, which were very different from each other, but equally lovely, sometimes I would think, "Would I do it this way?" "How would I want it for my ceremony?" And I was keeping mental notes of things I thought I might want. But then it wasn't even about the music selection, or the flowers, or the venue. It wasn't that I couldn't envision my wedding. It was that I couldn't envision me wanting a wedding.

How can that be? you ask.

This goes against almost everything that I have been brought up and conditioned to want in life. Let me say again that I am not nay-saying marriage. I am not discouraging others from wanting to have a big wedding and to be married. I have been privileged to witness several marriages that are beautiful and work and I am nothing but happy for them. I will be equally happy for anyone who ties the knot.

But I think relationships are hard. And love is complicated. And that people are more complex than they realize. And marriage, I would imagine, is difficult. And to stay in love with someone, as you continue to grow and as they continue to grow, and as you both go through this unpredictable thing called life, I think, is difficult enough without adding another layer of "till death do us part."

Some will argue that being married makes you fight for your relationship. That you have vows you are committed to, that you have responsibilities to this person whom you call your husband or wife. That you are part of something grander and bigger now than just yourself. And that it is all worth fighting for.

I get that. Believe me, I do.

But do you have to be married to fight for your relationship? Does marriage really make you fight harder? Can't you have promises and be part of something bigger than yourself without labels?

Fundamentally, this is all I would ask. To wake up next to someone everyday and be able to say, simply and truthfully, "I still choose you." And there is nothing binding us together except for this little choice we make, consciously, everyday. And you're here because you want to be, and I'm here because I want to be, and we don't feel the pressure of anything outside just the two of us to continue to be here.

Something like that.

I mean, this is a complicated topic to talk about for so many reasons, but I just wanted to put this out there as being where I am on it at this moment in my life. Things can change, I realize. And I also know that people will tell me that this is all because I haven't met "the one" yet. And I also know that I'll probably eat my words somewhere down the future because I've written this post. Feel free to remind me of it at that time.

Scenes from San Diego: 06/21-07/01