Good Moments, Hard Days

What Is Going Well

Something clicked last week with my four full-time six-year-olds. Out of nowhere, their English just…leveled up. Their comprehension is better. Their speaking is better. It honestly caught me off guard.

I don’t think they realize how proud I am of them. Every day, they surprise me.

They’ve also gotten more attached to me. I get hugs constantly. They draw pictures of me. They laugh at me—especially when I fake being hurt in an over-the-top way. They love that. They also love pulling the hairs on my arm, which actually hurts. A lot. I think it’s fascinating to them because most Asian men don’t really have arm hair.

They’ll grab my hand in the hallway, give me high-fives, or ask me to hold my hand above their heads so they can jump up and try to reach it. It’s simple, but it’s real. They’re easily the best part of my day.

I also have a group of seven-year-olds I teach three times a week. They go out of their way to say hi to me throughout the day. There’s this ongoing joke where I call them the wrong names, and they call me another teacher’s name back. It’s dumb, but it works.

This week, one of them—H____—was off. Quiet. Not himself. I asked if he was okay, but he didn’t say anything. Later, during a transition, he came over, sat next to me, and just leaned into me for a hug.

When I asked again what was wrong, he said he felt “happy, sad, and tired at the same time.”

That one hit me a little. I just told him I was sorry he was having a hard day and hugged him. It felt like one of those moments that actually matters.

---

What I Am Grateful For

I keep thinking about how different this experience could be if I hadn’t done TMS before coming here.

The six weeks of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) treatment I did before leaving the U.S. probably made this whole transition possible. Living alone in a foreign country, dealing with culture shock, work stress—this could have gone very differently.

But I feel…stable. Not perfect, but steady. I’m not spiraling. I’m not getting stuck in negative loops the way I used to.

That’s not something I take lightly.

Also—honestly—ChatGPT has been a lifeline. It’s helped me:

• figure out how to communicate at work without making things worse
• find food when I don’t have the energy to think
• get medical help when I needed it
• give me things to do so I’m not just sitting in my apartment scrolling
• make sense of culture shock

It sounds small, but it’s actually been huge.

---

Culture Shock

---

What I Wish Was Going Better

This is the part that’s getting to me.

My relationship with the Korean teachers—especially my co-teacher—is not good. And I’m only just starting to understand it through the lens of culture shock.

The reality is: it’s not my classroom.

It’s hers.

I’m a guest in it.

She controls everything—behavior, discipline, rewards, materials, how lessons are taught. I come in and deliver content, but it’s on her terms.

When I’m not teaching, I don’t even have a real place to exist. I’m in the teacher workroom with barely any space, carrying my materials back and forth like I’m temporary.

Even when she leaves the room during a lesson, she’s still…there. Her expectations are still there.

And when she’s gone, things shift. The kids relax. I relax. I can actually just teach without feeling like I’m about to be corrected.

Then she comes back in, and everything tightens again. Instantly.

I’ve been biting my tongue for weeks. Just taking the feedback, even when it feels unnecessary or poorly delivered.

But the way she speaks to me—it’s hard to ignore. It’s very direct, but it doesn’t feel neutral. It feels sharp. Condescending, sometimes.

On Thursday, she walked into the middle of a lesson and immediately started pointing out everything that wasn’t being done “correctly.”

I lasted maybe 30 seconds.

Then I said, “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

She kept going.

I said it again.

That second time, something shifted—just slightly. Her tone softened a little. But then she shut down. Sat there. Didn’t do anything for the next 15 minutes. No support, no engagement.

Just silence.

It was uncomfortable, but also…telling.

After that, we avoided each other. And on Friday, we both pretended it never happened.

Which somehow feels worse.

I don’t know what this week is going to be like.