It’s 9°C in Hong Kong at the moment—veritably freezing for this little isle on the South China Sea—and the CNY holiday has gifted me with some respite to reflect on what might be my most satisfactory period of work to date.
Two years ago today, I was sitting in my considerably chillier Montréal apartment, working from home as a historical researcher, desperately trying to conquer the voices of the void. I loved the research, but I dearly missed teaching. There is something unquantifiably exciting about engaging with young students who are grappling with new ideas for the first time; collaborating with fellow educators who are passionate about the value they bring to a community; contributing to building a more positive microcosm of the school; and embracing the never-ending novelty of learning something every day.
January marks the end of the first term of my second year teaching at an international school in Hong Kong. Due to some career changes, a global pandemic, and some family matters, it’s actually the longest I’ve worked anywhere. This academic year is for other firsts as well: first time teaching humanities and first time serving as a Head of Year.
I had anticipated some challenges prior to taking on these new roles. Would I be able to keep up with all the new content knowledge required of my IGCSE and A-Level courses? (The answer was yes—I actually struggled more with economics within KS3 Social Studies.) Would I be able to prove that I deserved a leadership position in pastoral amongst the many more-experienced teachers at my school? (I hope so—this one I still struggle answering with critical self-empathy.) Could I do this on top of expanding the scope and success of the Yearbook Committee? (TBD—the full publication and distribution should be completed by June 2025.) Would I be able to juggle everything while also completing an assignment-heavy PGCE? (Yes—although I cannot say I did so happily.) Looking back, these challenges appear easily overcome.
Being able to combine my love of teaching with my love for history has been a large tenet of why this first term has been so successful. An astute IGCSE History student, H.N., has asked more than once “why does it seem like you don’t miss being an English teacher?” There’s nothing wrong with the subject of course—I love language and literature, and an aspect I miss more than others is how reading my students’ written work allowed me to know them a little more deeply. More than once, I responded to H.N.’s inquiry by making a joke about how I no longer know how to speak English.
But if I were to answer honestly, I would probably say… I have loved the study of the past since I took four separate history electives in my suburban Ontario high school. Or perhaps even earlier, when my dad brought me to Unionville Public Library during summer break, and I borrowed out my pre-teen weight’s worth of historical fiction. It could be further back still, when my wee brother and I sat with our feet dangling from the dining room table, listening to stories of our family’s diasporic paths. Being able to plan and deliver lessons for a subject I am so passionate about makes every workday a joyful one. Being able to geek out with fellow history enthusiasts brings out the child in me. Being able to inspire students who initially dislike the subject to change their minds is incredibly motivating!
This blog started as an exercise to prove to myself that I can still write without AI, but it seems that I have waffled for long enough. I’ve soliloquised for so long it is now 17°C and I can go enjoy the last of my break with a trip to the beach. Here’s hoping for another good term.