Going home
I am in Taiwan right now until the beginning of August participating in a volunteer program. I’ve been quite busy with training sessions and creating lessons and haven’t had a lot of time to write and reflect. I’ve been spending my days teaching kids English and falling into deep naps as a result of my exhaustion from the school day afterward. I haven’t had a lot of time to do anything at all…
One thing I've learned now is how badly I do not want to be a teacher. I never fully understood the effort, work, and patience that goes into it until now. I have such a newfound respect for all of my teachers and what they actually have to go through in an entire year. I’ve been doing this only a few days and am already running out of steam. I initially assumed it would feel similar to going in front of your class and giving a group presentation, but I forgot to consider the bonus of also watching the kids, making sure they pay attention, and that they are still having fun. It really takes it out of you.
It feels so good to see the kids so happy though, I forgot how happily careless I was when I was younger. When I stare into their nine-year-old faces, I can't help but remember how old I felt when I was their age. As if I had the same authority and maturity as I do now. In reality, they more closely resemble a pack of five-year-old children who are all the same height and possess an energy and excitement I haven’t felt in years.
Today we had a water balloon fight and although I left soaking wet and tired, I was so relieved to see how much they enjoyed it. I find myself doing things for the students (such as letting them chase me around the gym during tag while they all gang up on me) at my own expense for their happiness. Maybe this is what it means to be an adult. I always thought I hated kids but I’m a changed girl now.
I’ve recently become a wiz at:
Making presentations on the spot (5 minutes)
Speaking very loudly (I teach 37 kids)
Working through the whole day with energy despite the fact that I feel as if I could fall flat on my face and sleep for one hundred years…
I haven’t been to Taiwan for the past three years and some things feel so drastically changed now—like how I have to look down when speaking to my grandparents. But some things will always stay the same—I can always count on the garbage truck to arrive at 6 pm playing Für Elise. Or hearing my grandma’s voice as I wake up to her morning prayers that carry themselves down from the third floor. It’s those little things where I can close my eyes and life becomes hazy as if I was ten again. When I open them I stare out into the endless mountain range where it stands eternally unchanged and wild.
. . .
Although, this year it was really hard for me to return. The last time I was here was filled with memories of online school, homesickness, and loneliness. There was a kind of dread in the air that seemed to only infect me as I walked down the airplane corridor. When we landed, I felt an anxiety I had never experienced which pressed down on my chest. Sitting in the car at my grandparents’ house, thinking about everything that had happened here before, I couldn’t help but cry. I didn't want to be scared, I hated that I was upset. It felt like a betrayal that I felt this way—how could I hate a place filled with such fond memories and a place that is home?
I hope I can find a way to reconcile these emotions eventually.
. . .
I am starting to remember all the things I love about it here. Marinating on the daily life I had here before I grew to resent has reminded me why I never wanted to leave all those summers before. I love getting passion fruit ice slushies in the 90-degree weather. I love watering the plants with my grandparents. I love feeling the rush of danger when walking on the side of the street and the motorcycles that dominate the roads sweep past me. I love the hot night markets and the bright and loud street vendors. It feels like I’ve awakened the side of me that has been dormant for the past few years: a more lively, authentic, and full version of myself.
I can say now that it feels good to be back.
