Don't Forget the Sky.

---CHA-CHA-CHANGES---

As most of you know, l recently started working at an elementary school.  Due to budget cuts within the Korean Department of Education, all high school and middle school foreign teachers were moved to elementary schools.  So, it was neither my choice nor in my control, but I was okay with it.  Well, not at first.  At first, I panicked, stressed myself out, and felt overwhelmed.  I mean, I am living in a foreign country which presents its own set of problems and daily stresses, but adding on a move and numerous small, loud children didn’t seem like it would help much.

Confused and unsure of what to do, I did what always helps me the most:  I talked to my family.  They always provide love and support which helps calm my nerves and makes me feel that everything will be okay.  Along with this comfort, I also depended on the sharply honest, intelligent words of my sister which are sometimes exactly what I need.  “You didn’t move to Korea to get comfortable,” she said.  “You moved there to challenge yourself, to face new adventures, and that’s exactly why you need to be open to the change ahead of you.” 

There was something about that statement that changed not only my decision, but also completely changed my attitude.  I DIDN’T move to Korea to get comfortable, I moved to Korea to avoid getting comfortable, to avoid being too content to the point where I stop feeling...anything.  I’d rather feel challenged and grow as a person than to become an unchanging, slowly rusting robot in my daily life.  And, well, elementary school was and is anything BUT comfortable.

----ELEMENTARY SCHOOL----

On my second day of work at my new elementary school, I had to teach three first grade classes ALONE; no co-teacher, no English translation, just me and 25 students who don’t even know the English alphabet.  I was terrified.  I showed them pictures of America and my family, we sang an alphabet song (“A is for apple—a a apple…), and then I gave them a worksheet with a big ant on it to color.  As I walked around, nervous that I’d be accosted to answer a question in Korean, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks:  a few students had not only colored the picture of the ant, but they had drawn the sky—clouds, sun, blues, yellows.  The sky.  These five year old children had completed their job/task, but had taken time away from that to stop and add something that was important to them—the SKY.  They took the time to shape each cloud uniquely, to lightly fill the area around the clouds with a misty blue, and to add in a big, bright sun, rays and all.  They hadn’t forgotten the sky.  But, like many other people my age, I had.

---BALINESE SUNSET---

Immediately I was reminded of an incredible moment that I had in Bali, Indonesia two weeks before this.  I, along with two of my best friends, had taken a day of relaxation on the beach—reading, music, and a short nap.  When I awoke from my nap I saw that the sky was on fire—it was time for the sunset.  We grabbed our towels and moved closer to the water.  Everything was still, silent, but warm.  The beach was filled with scattered bodies—sitting, standing, wading in the water.  Despite the lively crowds, every face was turned towards the setting sun.  It became quiet, peaceful.  Everyone had stopped.  They knew that this was a moment that was important—no one wanted to miss the SKY. 

Eyes glistened with the reflection of the sunset on the water beaming through them.  I let every other thought leave my head, and I tried to take in every last ounce of that sunset.  I felt it in my bones, through my veins, pumping from my heart into my brain.  It was one of the best moments of my life.  Who knew that something as simple as watching the sunset, looking at the sky, could be so important and necessary? 

My first grade students did.  The Balinese people did.  And, I wanted to.

---THE CONNECTION---

My time in Bali was one of the most rewarding experiences because I felt an appreciation and peacefulness that I had forgotten existed.  Every morning during my time in Bali, we would open our two doors, let in the light breeze, and listen to the morning prayers.  The soft drumming, twinkling bells, harmonic Sanskrit, and incense would drift into our room.  We would then sip on strong, delicious Balinese coffee sloooooowly, enjoying every drop.  We’d later be greeted by smiling faces, be surrounded by local laughter, and end our day with a beautiful view of small, bird-like kites filling the sky.  

I couldn't figure out why Balinese people were so happy until that evening on the beach when I watched the sunset.  Then I realized—they don’t forget the important things.  They don’t get caught up in the distractions that most of us do.  They work hard, but they set aside time to focus on what’s important to them:  their daily prayers, family, friends, and the natural environment around them. 

When I came back from Bali, one of the first things I did was go to the grocery store.  While riding down the escalator, I watched the people move quickly, distracted, in and out, as fast as they could, through the store, just like they do in life.  It made me sad.  I’ve been one of those people—one of those people who is so distracted with everything that is going on in my life—who multitasks to the point where I give nothing 100% of my attention or emotion.  I can do so many things in one day, giving each a small amount of myself, but never really stopping to focus on ONE thing, to give one thing 100% of myself.  Therefore, I become (as mentioned before) an unchanging robot who is effective in productivity but has no sense of emotion or passion.  I think we all are, or have been, robots in our own lives, technically alive but dead in every other way.

---DON’T FORGET THE SKY---

I’m making it a point to start being more like my first graders, more like the Balinese people, who STOP and FULLY enjoy the things around them.  I don’t want to be one of those people who forget that one of the most beautiful sights, something that can spike a passion and feeling of life within me, is right above me, and all I need to do is stop and look up. 

So I challenge you, along with myself, to ignite that passion that you had when you were young, and when you’re drawing the picture of your life, to never forget the sky. ♥