June 23, 2025

At the end of my last journal entry, I subtly hinted at some recent changes in my life—ones that, in hindsight, have been the main reason I’ve been so busy lately. Looking back now, life seems to move in quiet, gradual shifts. Nothing grand or dramatic ever seems to happen all at once, yet over time, I find myself changing in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Lately, my teaching schedule has become more intense. With the college entrance exams just finished, a new wave of students has joined my IELTS speaking classes. Some of them are fresh out of high school, still carrying that post-exam energy—restless, hopeful, and just a little unsure of what’s next. Others, however, are working adults, some even significantly older than me. After long days at their jobs, they still show up online, camera on, voice steady, ready to start again with “Describe a time when…”

Their presence has shifted something in me. It made me realize that learning no longer fits into neat boxes of age or status. It’s simply about one thing: whether a person still has the desire to try. And that’s something quietly powerful.

Honestly, when I first took this job, it was just meant to be a side gig. A flexible part-time job to make a little extra money, nothing more. I had no deep passion for teaching—just a sense that I could do it, and that it fit into my schedule. But over time, something changed.

As I began working with more and more students, I found that this “side job” started to shape how I see people, how I speak, and how I listen. Seeing my students—especially the ones who once feared speaking—achieve the scores they worked so hard for, and hearing the excitement in their voices as they shared their future plans, brought me a kind of satisfaction I never expected. It’s a quiet, enduring kind of joy. Not just from teaching, but from witnessing transformation, and knowing you played even a small part in it.

Teaching became more than a job—it became a form of connection.

That said, it’s still technically a part-time job. That hasn’t changed. What has changed is how I feel about it. Maybe it’s because I’ve heard so many stories and seen so many different life paths up close, but I’ve become more in tune with my own instincts. I no longer force myself to do things that feel wrong, just because they’re “supposed to be good for me.” Now, I ask myself: Does this feel right? Do I feel okay doing this? And if the answer is no, I walk away—without guilt.

Because I’ve come to realize: no matter what path you take, there will always be a moment where you struggle and want to give up. There will always be doubt. So why not choose the path that you feel drawn to, even if it’s not the one others would pick for you? At least then, when you hit that hard moment, you’ll know you were being honest with yourself.

Teaching has not only allowed me to help others—it’s helped me understand choice, and doubt, and resilience. It’s taught me that the world won’t always get easier just because you made the “right” decision. But it will get clearer if you listen to your gut and commit to what feels true.

I don’t feel the need to prove myself like I once did. I’m less obsessed with being perfect. These days, I’m more interested in what feels sustainable, what feels authentic. I’ve learned how to let go, how to say “this isn’t for me,” and how to honor my limits without shame.

Maybe that’s what growing up really is—not necessarily becoming stronger, but becoming more honest.