이 새로운 장 (This New Chapter)

A view to last ten days

So here I am again, diving headfirst into a life-altering experience that involves me moving out of the country. I’m starting to think I have a flair for the dramatic.

A part of me had a feeling I would find my way to this point. Teaching English abroad was something I’ve thought about doing since high school. I was never entirely sure if teaching as a career was right for me, but I loved the cultural exchange and immersion that came with TEFL (the handy acronym for “teaching English as a foreign language”). It seemed to take the philosophy of being both student and teacher to the next level—a philosophy that I’ve seen proven time and time again in my short time as a TEFL teacher thus far. Also, as you know by now, I really love English. And TEFL turned out to be a wonderful outlet for sharing that love with others.

My TEFL journey has been one that’s demanded new levels of daring, motivation, and confidence from me. For the longest time, I waffled several times over whether or not to even pursue TEFL in the first place. I kept waiting for something else to step in my way, to forcibly turn me away from the path I found myself drawn to. When you have an anxious mind like mine, it's easy to reason yourself out of things that intimidate you. But sometime at the end of 2020, there came a point where I finally got fed up with my own capriciousness and bit the bullet. I mean, for goodness sake, my blog is titled “Do Not Go Gentle.” I should at least try to take that to heart. And if there was ever a time to live by those words, it was now, when I was fresh out of college and woefully uncertain of my next steps. It’s fair to say that, especially at this point, I am not going gentle but all but blustering into this new chapter of my life.

I should back up a little—specifically seven weeks ago, when I got the teaching job I’m about to start. I think I now know the true meaning of “scary fast,” because the way this all came together can be described in no other way. I won't go into too much detail about it now; that might be a story for another time. But as I pondered in my last blog post, oftentimes the best way to move on from a rejection is to make a purposeful next step. It just so happened that my purposeful next step was mixed in with a little bit of luck and the hand of some higher power, and the "scary fast" nature of it all was outweighed by my interest and enthusiasm in this particular school. In the wake of my previous rejection, I also couldn't help but think: was this what I was waiting for instead?

The accelerated timeline I found myself in brought back memories of my Oxford application experience, when I learned about the application deadline about a month out. Once again I found myself in a situation where I had to ask myself: Am I making the right decision? Am I making it out of pressure or because I truly want to do it? Do I even know what I’m getting myself into? And once again while answering those questions, I was doing everything necessary to move forward anyway; because just like with Oxford, I knew that if I passed on this opportunity because of fear, I would regret it for the rest of my life. So in true Sagittarius fashion, I am once more taking off to discover just how independent I can be. It's strange, actually; I've never quite had this combination of emotions before. When I left for Oxford, I was absolutely terrified. I vividly remember the early morning ride to the airport, barely able to suppress my anxieties, feeling overwhelmed and nauseous. My fear was definitely overpowering my excitement. When I left for Korea this past weekend, I was still terrified. I was traveling 14+ hours all by myself. I cried a little (maybe a lot). But I could feel that fear being balanced by a powerful, positive energy, one that was fueled by the hard work and experiences that had brought me here. One that realized I was finally on my way to doing something I had only dreamed about thus far.

Now after seven weeks of frantic phone calls, document filings and shipments, and an absurd amount of passport photos, I am on the other side of the world, quarantined in an Airbnb studio apartment because South Korea is on it when it comes to COVID-19 precautions. A moment of abrupt stillness after a cacophony. I am exhaling but also recognizing that I am on the edge of something new, something great. Like an actor waiting in the wings. Or a page in a book, waiting to be turned to reveal the next chapter.

My only view of Korea so far is of a side street and concrete buildings. But I know there is so much more to see.