Spring 2023 Update

 It is June 11th, 2023, and the last few months have been very eventful. I have neglected Roblog to the point that child health care services is starting to breath down my neck. I will try to hit the major points of the first half of 2023 in a single paragraph each, in the hopes that this unclogs my brain, freeing up the old pipes to unleash my wit (or whatever) on the page.

I took the kids to Kansas for 5 weeks, mid-January to mid-February. It was not quite long enough, but circumstances squeezed the trip at both ends. In the past, I've been ready to return to Korea, but this time I was not. I treasured the time spent with my parents in a way that I haven't before, in part because I am more aware of how old they are. It is a natural part of the arc of life to outlive one's parents, much preferable to the alternative. But that does not make it easy to contemplate. I am fortunate that they are both active, and in good health for people pushing 80. I am proud of the work they do in the church and community, from the homeless shelter to the prison to the library to a thousand little construction projects over the years. (It might sound like an exaggeration, but if my father has done fewer than a thousand projects, I would be surprised.)

Also on the trip Maxine and I started to seriously consider the idea of her moving to America on her own at some point. We visited the Kansas City Kansas Community College (KCKCC) campus in Leavenworth, and she actually found it inviting and maybe even a little appealing. The teachers and admins we met were also very friendly, and the facility itself looks like a great place to learn.

Horyon returned to work in February of this year, after a year and three months of medical leave. It has been a difficult transition, in part because she is now the 4th oldest teacher out of 25 in the school. She had been a homeroom teacher for many years, and now she is not. Her list of duties and responsibilities is shorter, and she doesn't have to stay into the evening more than a couple of times a month, rather than three or four times a week. But the pay is lower, and she feels less relevant. 

We are still reeling financially, so I asked for and received overtime this semester. I went from teaching 12 hours per week to 18, and discovered that I am no longer as young as I once was. I pour a lot of myself into my teaching, interacting with students and encouraging them both individually and as entire classes. I dislike grading, both the process and the idea of it, though I understand the need. Soon I will be administering final exams, then putting numbers on a screen which tell students how much they are worth. Ugh.

Maxine is absorbed in being a high school senior. Her school does a pair of big projects for their senior year: a drama that the class produces, and individual presentations on topics of their choice. This has taken a lot of her attention, and having a steady boyfriend (her 2nd, more than a year now!) and a tight circle of friends means that we don't see her much at home.

Quinten is in 8th grade, so the last year of middle school. They also do a set of projects like the seniors, only smaller. They did their individual presentations a couple of weeks ago, which had him staying up late at night and seriously stressing out. He did a fantastic job, and his presentation was clearly the best of the six students in his class. I know this, even though I do not understand Korean well enough to follow any of them, and was starting to sink under the first waves of Covid on that day. Quinten is getting tall, and may soon be taller than me. It will be nice to have someone else who can get stuff off the top shelf.

Yes, I finally got Covid. I managed to be quarantined during literally the last week that Korea was quarantining people with Covid. I never had much of a fever, and only a mild cough, but damn it made me tired. For about three days I could barely concentrate. Standing up to go the bathroom wiped me out, and I was sleeping for 12 hours a day. I am three weeks out, and still find myself making more mistakes than usual, thinking more slowly than I am used to, and unable to make thematically and structurally consistent lists of three that do not rely on a third point that is basically a synthesis of the first two.

I've played two concerts this semester, and been sick three times, including the covid. I both love my job and wish that I didn't have to spend so much time on it. I've watched too much Netflix for my own good, and spend too much time sitting in front of my computer. I haven't been on my bike in a very long time, and am afraid to get back on, knowing how much it will hurt. I don't think I have been out for a ride since Horyon was diagnosed with breast cancer in October of 2021. Maybe I just didn't want to do anything risky. Honestly, I'm not sure that I had a motive for not doing it. Laziness is usually sufficient motive for me to avoid damn near anything.

I have started to let myself become a part of the church I've been going to. My long-time friend Rick is now the pastor there, which helps. It has taken me a long time to pull back from cursing the very idea of church to wanting to be a part of it again. I have a better understanding of people who never make the return. And just a few days ago I had a new RICC-related experience: I started to mourn the loss of it. Reading from Psalm 124, 

"If the LORD had not been on our side when people attacked us,

they would have swallowed us alive when their anger flared against us, 

the flood would have engulfed us, the torrent would have swept over us, 

the raging waters would have swept us away."

I read it and in my heart I heard, "my anger would have swallowed me alive, and I would have invited in the raging waters, looking forward to being swept away." And something broke inside, and I cried. And they were my first tears for RICC since I was invited to take my talents elsewhere. 

I was surprised at how good it felt to be sad about it, rather than angry. I believe that it is the beginning of mourning for RICC, and my loss of it. It is messy emotion that these words do not work, they don't show the truth of it, because I don't know exactly what it is that I am mourning. But I will dwell in it, and I am grateful for it. 

There is more to this semester, but much of it escapes my addled brain at this late hour. It is just after one a.m., and I have spent less than an hour and a half writing this. Usually I would set aside a Roblog piece for a day or two, then reread, maybe run it past someone else. But this one is going out raw.