It’s been a slow writing kind of month. Mostly due to a host of computer difficulties, planning two trips to the USA, and general apathy on my part.

We’ve done some cool stuff, and I promise I’m going to catch you up on it once I find the motivation again.

Sadly, the only thing I’ve written lately is an essay I did with my Ivy level students.  But, for those of you who just can’t get enough of our blog (and really to convince myself that I’m not letting the whole thing slide into oblivion), I’ll repost it for you. 

We’ve been talking a lot about identity, beauty, and social pressures to look and act a particular way, so I asked my students to compose an essay telling me how they would describe themselves.

Once I realized the enormity of such a task, in terms of cognitive work load, invasion of privacy, English vocabulary required, etc., I decided it was only fair to write my own essay, which they would get to read.

So here it is:

Asking you to describe yourself is kind of a mean trick to play. After all, what teenager really knows who they are and can sum it up in a concise, organized essay in their second language? Most of us are messy bundles of thoughts, hopes, fears, and feelings loosely bound up in skins of various shades and thicknesses. So, in the spirit of fair play, I’ll tell you who I think I am in return for the essays you wrote me.

First and most importantly, I am a learner. I love to read, do, explore, and discover new things. I also really like to know things so that I can share them with others. This is probably why I’m a teacher and definitely why one of my favorite things to do is curl up with a new book. I am particularly interested in history, culture, literature, and languages. I think of myself as pretty smart, and sometimes I worry that I sound bossy or like a know-it-all.

I’m also emotional. I feel things like anger, sadness, and joy very deeply, and sometimes I can’t explain why. I cry at sad movies. I laugh until I can’t breathe when I think something’s funny, and when I’m angry–watch out! This also means I sometimes am too sensitive and take things that really shouldn’t matter at all quite personally. This can make dealing with me challenging at times, and I frequently read too much into otherwise innocuous situations. However, I value the ability to feel deeply, to access a full range of emotions. I think that, most of the time, it makes me a better person.

In addition, I consider myself to be a pretty physical person. While I was active as a child, I spent a lot of my twenties eating too much and exercising too little, which left me with a weight problem. Just before I turned thirty, I got my life back together, lost almost fifty pounds, and started taking better care of myself. Now, I’m extremely active. I love to run, hike, and travel. One of the best parts of my week is my hapkido class (I’m a blue belt). It took me a little while to realize this, but I am much happier with myself and the world around me when I live a lifestyle that is physically active. I also have more confidence, which has helped me do big things like move all the way to Korea to teach English.

Finally, I’m hardworking, as evidenced by the fact that, while I only required you to pick three words, I chose to write about four. When I set out to do something, I don’t want to stop until it’s finished. And when it’s something I care about, I want it to be as perfect as I can make it. I don’t mind working long hours, and I’m the kind of person who tries hard to get things done early and done right. Occasionally, this means I can be too hard on other people because I have definite ideas about how things should be done. But at the end of the day, the person I’m hardest on and judge most critically is always myself.

So, that’s a brief look at who I think I am at this moment in time, a snapshot of a life that is continually changing and trying to evolve. By no means is this a complete portrait of my identity–more like a fuzzy candid photo taken just as I turned my head, an awkward pencil sketch in desperate need of detail–incomplete, but me, nonetheless.