Waiting in Hope & Anticipation

Why do we do what we do in the moment we are doing it? This is a curious question to pursue. As a Christian, it is easy to quickly deem that the doing comes from a calling. As an educator, we quickly think about the children; it’s always for the children. As a “responsible” adult, we understand the importance of having a job, call it a profession or career if you need, but something that will support in paying the bills and sustaining both basic needs and a lifestyle. 

Recently I was sharing with my sister my burdened excitement about reading articles from the New York Times Magazine’s 1619 Project in preparation for a workshop series I am hosting through the non-profit organization I co-direct with a colleague. As I shared some of my reflections, she asked me, “Why do you think you work so in depth with African-American content and communities?”

It is a legitimate and real question. And one that I often dread, as I have been asked it a lot. It often comes from an exotic yet pure curiosity or a protective judgement. So there is an initial heart sink that occurs when some variation of this question is posed, and I feel an urge to defend myself or validate the reality of how odd the situation is: I, as an Asian-American woman, feel both called to and very passionate about working with black American youth - teaching, mentoring, developing, and learning from their stories. This dread is rooted in knowing that the judgement stems from two camps of beliefs: “Isn’t is safer/easier to work in the suburbs?” and “What effective impact could you possibly have on black children as a non-black educator?”

“How does an Asian fit into any of this?!” Insert shrug emoji here. I have no profound response. But here’s what I know to be true for me. 

When I entered my second year of my graduate program, I was embarking on a year long residency where I would spend half the school year in one classroom and the other half in another classroom, learning the ins and outs of education and teaching. We had a “speed-dating” round to meet potential clinical instructors (mentor teachers) in whose classrooms we would potentially be student teachers in. My heart was immediately drawn to the teacher who worked with predominantly Latinx students; he shared stories of his students developing their identities as children of immigrants, navigating the complexities of a dual identity. Of course it made the most sense given my story as the daughter of Korean immigrants, navigating life figuring out what it means to be Korean and American, for me to work with him! Duh! So I ranked him number one. And I was sure to get it. It only made sense. 

I did not. I was placed into a 6th grade classroom in Woodlawn comprised of 99% of students who identified as African-American, and my second placement was in an 8th grade classroom in West Englewood/Auburn-Gresham similarly comprised of students who 99% identified as African-American. I learned A LOT. Important, critical lessons around teaching, planning, curriculum design, establishing classroom culture, etc. I learned that developing relationships with adolescents require a unique sense of humility and humor, not taking anything personally ever and laughing at yourself always. And as I developed relationships, I learned how important it was to make space to see my students in their fullness, their story, their talents, their hurts, and their journeys, that which they paved and that which they were trying to figure out a path for. And in these stories, I saw connections to my story, perhaps not in any way that could exactly reciprocated in either direction, but I discovered in those connections the necessary spaces for empathy. My love and care for my students was founded in transparent acknowledgement and acceptance of one another. And I have been learning ever since to continue to find opportunities and make space to connect and empathize with my students as well as invite them to connect and empathize with me in our seemingly different yet entirely too relatable stories and lives.  

Let’s also be real - culturally relevant pedagogy for all its buzzwordiness is a critical element for equity in education. Integrating culturally relevant pedagogical practices in our classrooms and schools actively identify and honor the wholeness of our students. As a non-black person, I do not have firsthand knowledge of living a life of a black youth, nor would/should/could I ever stake claim. The active responsibility I have as an educator is to educate myself, to learn, to ask questions, to acknowledge the space I occupy and the bridge I desire to build in an effort to empower my students and provide opportunities for them to develop wholly during the limited time I may have with them in school. And this then needs to live in everything - instruction, content, culture, interactions, routines, etc. It requires effort and work, which is easy to neglect when there’s 100000 other asks of a teacher/administrator, but then why be in this work? So it gets done. No matter the time it or energy it will take. Because it is deserved by all young people, and it is owed to the young person whose development is too often shortchanged by systemic inequities.    

Why do I find this work life-giving? Why do I feel compelled to do this work and feel frustrated when I feel that my work is being limited or confined by systemic flaws? Perhaps because it is a vocational calling to which I have been invited into by God. I am mindful that the spaces & communities into which we are called into are not accidental, and at the same time it takes a certain set of dispositions and skills to be effective. I do not ignore the fact that I am seen as an outsider, by students and adults, in the schools and communities that I have had the opportunity to teach, learn, partner, and so on. So I do not take lightly the invitation and grace I have been extended in these spaces and communities that have allowed me to grow and develop as an educator. In this growth and development I have experienced celebrations and exhilaration as well as utter pain and heartbreak alongside my students, colleagues, families and parents. Those human connections as well as opportunities to see souls develop and grow are a source of strength and life. For me, I don’t think I can find this in a different vocation or a different context, given the realities of what Chicago offers in its landscape and my own story. 

The past decade was spent getting to do amazing learning and teaching in classrooms and schools. As I enter this new decade, I begin my 2020 journey by discerning where and what God calls me to step into next. I believe that everything is and happens for a reason. I believe my work, however effective or ineffective it has been (because as all educators know, there are hard days and streaks, & not just in those beginning years), has had purpose. My past 12 years in education are filled with hard lessons learned, humbling moments, and an overflow of gratitude for the experiences I have gathered and the minds I have been afforded the opportunity to connect with and the hearts of my amazing children I have been invited to love and be loved by.

I do what I do in the moment I get to do it because passion pieces have arranged itself to open doors and my strengths & opportunities of growth couple with the vocation to bring about something beautiful, even in its imperfections. I was not placed into those mentor teacher's classrooms accidentally. And with that same faith and hope, I step into 2020 in anticipation of where I will get to lean into and doubly grow as a lifelong learner.

One of final moments at my former school/position; photo captured by a student.

A reminder that those quiet moments, in contemplation or waiting,

are integral for the great things that follow.