Intention, Community & Moving Forward

Posted on April 25, 2021 by betinahsieh

Sometimes, we just have to keep holding on, and moving forward, in community.

This has been an incredibly hard week for so many reasons.

There is still so much uncertainty.

But today, I am beginning to see light and beauty again.

And I am grateful for the community of friends, family and strangers that have walked alongside me while I struggled.

Earlier this week, I wrote about feeling like I failed my son. However, while the door closed on that assignment, it opened a door to give feedback on curriculum at my son’s school, and in creating a book list specific to his context (a public academic magnet schools with a 70% Asian American; 19% Latinx student population) and building from existing themes and texts, I was also able to share this list with others via Twitter.

The list was sourced through community.

It was shared through community.

It was added to by community.

I was able to really consider how to navigate a system designed to reproduce itself, to make a crack a bit wider, to support not only the students in my son’s school and community, but also my extended community online.

Thank you for lifting me up.

There are other things still going on, both personally and professionally, that are both hard and hopeful, but I am grateful that it is not all hard.

I am learning to embrace moments of hope and joy even amongst, or especially within, periods of deep grief and struggle.

I am learning that when you put things out in the universe, that which is yours will come and find you. And that for which it is not time or for which you are not meant can be accepted.

I am learning to be rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering and persevere in prayer.

I am really learning to be patient in it all, to continue to bring humanity to every situation, to make space where I can’t see it, at first, to step into spaces, and try, even when I feel like I may fail.

I could not do any of this without the strength of those in my community, who have been thinking of me, loving on me, praying for me. Holding me and holding space for me.

I am deeply grateful.

I am moving forward.

One step at a time.

One day at a time.

Moment by moment.

Living Tensions

Posted on April 3, 2021 by betinahsieh

It has been such a week, after such a week, a series of such weeks over this past year, and a series among a lifetime of such weeks.

These weeks teach me about the living tensions and holding space for the abundance that makes up life even when it is so incredibly complicated.

This week, love and grief emerged for me in waves, in tidal waves, in gentle waves, like the ebb and flow of the sea. They came for me and I was not ready for their power. They came for me in their beauty and destructiveness and all I could do was to be swept away, and brought back. I could fall into them and hope to reach the shore.

This week, laughter and tears flowed. I surprised myself by laughing at long text threads and exclamations of a five year old (my favorite five year old), at everyday moments. I surprised myself by sobbing for a young girl that I once was so long ago who lost her mother and was told there was a time limit on her grief.

This week, the stress of anticipation was balanced by the strength of community. So many times this week, I wondered whether I should speak, what I should say, if I would hear from my sister, if I would know someone killed in a mass shooting, if it was safe to walk outside, if I could make it through a meeting or a workday without the familiar feelings of nausea and anxiety coming upon me to remind me that I was not free. And yet, in those moments when I was most afraid, I would receive a text or a message or a tweet from someone expressing love, or living in the present. I would hear the joyful laughter from down the hall. I would be shown grace.

This week, I drank 64 oz of water everyday (thank you, Joy, for my water bottle to support this). I breathed deeply when I felt the anxiety rise. I let myself cry and feel. I wrote in paper journals. I felt the depths of love in so many ways that I will always be grateful for, and I felt the depths of grief in equally powerful ways that remind me of my humanity.

We live so many tensions.

It is not easy.

But it is, in many ways, the beauty of humanity.

We can move towards liberation, but only in community, and only through navigating tensions, holding space for all that encompasses the complexities of our humanity, holding ourselves and each other accountable, while also showing grace to ourselves and each other.

I am living the tensions. I am working to embrace them. For in the tensions, I know I find my full humanity.

Learning to Trust

Posted on March 30, 2021 by betinahsieh

I am learning to trust myself, those I love, my community.

For a very long time, although so many people count on me, I have struggled with allowing myself to be fully seen, known and loved. I have struggled with trust that when I was in need, people would hear my cries, see my tears, hold my pain.

But there are moments in life when, without the support of others, there is little else that helps us endure.

These past two weeks have been among the hardest in my life (and I have had many, many hard weeks).

But these weeks have also been my teachers.

In these two weeks, I have strengthened the bonds I have with my community, with those I love deeply, even, to a degree, with complete strangers.

I have learned to trust my voice, my intuition, my feelings.

I have learned to listen to the wisdom that my body holds (thanks to my dear friend, Leigh, for the reminder that our bodies hold wisdom we may not understand) even when that wisdom is confusing and feels unbearable.

I have learned to speak the truth and trust that it will reach the right people.

I have learned to reach out, to be embraced, seen and loved.

I have learned to trust love, even when it is painful and feels unbearable.

I have learned to accept help (I’m still working on it), and to trust that even when I can only respond with a heart emoji or maybe not at all, that in the act of demonstrating love, the people who are showing their love will know that they are making a difference.

I have learned to listen to my community’s solidarity.

I have learned that so many people see me and will show up for me, privately and publicly.

I have learned that sometimes I cannot do anything “productive.” The feelings of helplessness are the most overwhelming. But productivity is a construct, and survival is a necessity.

I am learning that in those moments, there is nothing to do, there is only being and trusting, and the next step will reveal itself.

I have learned that although I have made many mistakes, I am not the sum of my faults or my regrets. I do not need to make up for my imperfections. It is my imperfections that make me human.

And it is my humanity that touches the truth in others.

My friend, Ale, says that I am someone who makes lemonade from lemons. It is true, I suppose that I often try to turn the bitter into the sweet.

There is so much to be bitter about. There is still so much pain. There is still so much senseless violence.

But I will continue to draw from my humanity to try to connect with the humanity of others.

It is all I know.

And in a dehumanizing world, it is my greatest act of resistance.

Breathe.

The Space Between

Posted on February 6, 2021 by betinahsieh

This week was extremely hard for me.

I kept going and going and going despite all the signs that I was doing too much.

But I was wise today.

I made space for the people that would tell me that I needed to stop.

And, at the end of the day, with the call where there was no set purpose, I listened.

When my mother died, I frantically tried to reestablish normalcy as quickly as possible. I went back to school the Monday after she passed. I did not miss a single day of school because of her death. I worked as hard as I could, laser focused on my goal of becoming valedictorian so I could honor her in my speech.

And I have always done this. Doing more because the grief seems both more and less bearable when I am overachieving. More bearable because I can avoid it. Less bearable because it is never resolved. There is never space to just be.

This year, although I know better, I still continued to push myself beyond my limits.

I know I was trying to prove myself this week because, although I know better, I became deeply attached to the actions of others.

And that, as it inevitably does, made me doubt myself.

But, in conversation with my friend Tyrone today, I was reminded that the lives, choices, and actions of others are both out of my locus of control and not in response to me.

And that shift opened the space I so desperately needed.

It was a reminder to focus on what I could control and let go of those things that are not my load to bear.

I am grateful for the chiseled cracks in my armor etched by my community today. Questions about joy, concerns about my health and well-being, reminders that I am important not for any thing that I do, but because of who I am. Reminders that I have to prioritize myself and my health because all the things will get done or they won’t, but I am not replaceable to those who love me.

I know all these things.

But the space reminds me to feel them.

This week was extremely hard for me, but it is over, and I am still here.

This weekend, I will rest and regroup.

And try again on Monday.

Gratitude in Grief – 100 days and 26 years

Posted on February 4, 2021 by betinahsieh

I just want to pause to tell my community thank you.

It was an incredibly long day.

There was much emotion.

It was my daughter’s 100th day of kindergarten. The 100th day celebration was new to me when my son had it 9 years ago (and actually had it in both kindergarten and 1st grade, in Chinese and then in English, but I digress), but this time, we were prepared. In spite of 100 days of distance learning, her outstanding teacher put together a beautiful at-home celebration package including a Korean-English 100 days crown & a silicone 100 days bracelet. We added 100 go stones for our girl to count. She had a great day.

It was the 26th anniversary of my mom’s death today. Time was suspended 26 years ago, as my mom passed on a Friday when there was no school, giving me a full weekend of weird liminality before I went back to my normal life (I really don’t know what happened that weekend, where I slept, what I did). The day, I remember, but I remember its emptiness, rather than any fullness. I remember myself trying to record the memories of those moments in my mind because I knew I wouldn’t be the same after.

Today, however, was a day like many others — full of meetings: some I attended, some I led, some I engaged in, as if I was my whole self, today, which I am never really fully on this day of the year. Sometimes I pretend, like I did today, because my schedule is full and I could not avoid the normalcy. In better years (perhaps not in global pandemics), I give myself more grace and space. Today, my schedule was full, but in more moments than not, my heart was empty. I will likely not record any memories of today except that it is the 100 days celebration of my last baby and it fell on the anniversary of my mother’s death.

What I am grateful for, however, is the space to speak my truth, and the openness to receive love of those who walk alongside me in love and in grief.

This morning, already exhausted, I posted on Twitter about the emotions of today. I immediately received many messages of love and solidarity. Throughout the day, friends texted and messaged me to check on me, offering to talk if I needed anything. My husband ordered me food although I did not feel like eating. My children made me laugh. In one of my many meetings, I reconnected with a former credential student who it was a joy to hear from again. I got to participate in a community chat that reminded me to reclaim my leadership even in moments of vulnerability.

There are sparks of joy in the sorrow.

February 3 is never easy for me.

It is always heavy, and usually hard.

But it reminds me of the deep roots that cannot be breached by death, roots of love and of ancestry, of strength of character and survival, of freedom and faith, of community and support.

So I end today sad, as is to be expected, but grounded in gratitude, and buoyed by love. My mother’s love, my family’s love, my community’s love.

Giving Thanks

Posted on September 18, 2020 by betinahsieh

This has been a very hard last month, transitioning into the school year. To say otherwise would be to lie, and I am nothing if not honest.

There have been many things to carry. Many things to learn. Many obstacles to navigate. Many breaths to breathe.

But I am learning and I am navigating and I am breathing.

I am not carrying everything.

I am choosing what I can carry, and laying down the burdens that are not mine.

I am responding to trauma without reacting to it.

I am allowing myself to grieve so that I have a pathway to joy.

And I am thankful.

Because there is power in gratitude even in the hardest of moments.

There is power in gratitude for learning, for wisdom to navigate, for breath.

There is power in gratitude that I no longer feel obligated to carry it all for myself and others.

There is power in gratitude that I can see trauma, respond to it, and keep myself grounded in my own inner strength.

There is power in gratitude for joy and grief.

There is power in gratitude for authentic community.

There is power in gratitude for knowing who I am without the need for external validation.

I am grateful.

I am grateful that I am not alone.

I am grateful for faith in the dark.

It has not been easy. It will not be easy.

But today, I draw from the power of gratitude and grace.

Walking the Walk, Down a New Path

Posted on May 14, 2020 by betinahsieh

It is the end of another semester. This, of course, means, it’s time for another final reflection on the semester.

But this final reflection is a little different than some of my others because this semester is different than others, for more reasons than one might imagine.

In our final synchronous session online together last night, when asked to identify what they were taking away from our class, one of my students shared the following, “I think it’s important to walk the walk instead of just talking the talk. For ex, Dr. Hsieh always talks about compassion and mindfulness, and we actually see it in practice with the flexible deadlines, 2nd chances, etc. Even if I didn’t really turn stuff in “late,” I still really appreciate it, and we don’t necessarily see every professor walking the walk, so to speak.”

Walking the walk.

Over the last 7 years, I have tried my best to always walk the walk.

And I have been blessed to walk the walk alongside some of the best colleagues, leaders, and students in the world.

This semester, our world shifted, in ways that were previously unpredictable. When forced to move our instruction to alternative formats, I could not have asked for better students with whom to engage in remote teaching and learning. I could not have asked for better student teachers with whom to navigate the challenges of figuring out how to complete requirements designed for schools, in remote environments, where every school site and district were responding slightly differently.

We made it through the semester together.

This semester, my world shifted, in ways that were also somewhat unpredictable. I gave a TEDx talk at the end of February, just two weeks before the world as I know it would shut down. I became a mother-scholar 24/7 in the most real of ways. I learned to make memes and expect regular meme recaps of my weekly optional synchronous online sessions with my students.

And, I accepted a new position.

Beginning in Fall 2020, I will be the Director of Teacher Education and Professor of Education at the La Fetra College of Education at the University of La Verne.

I have been relatively quiet about this new journey, out of respect for the shifting ground under my students’ feet. We have been making it, together, and I didn’t want to shift things in a way that might destabilize their learning even more. So, I waited, and asked those who did know about this change, to not announce it publicly.

But last night, at the end of our last class session, I shared the news with students who were shocked but congratulatory. There was even a meme about it, shared prior to the end of class.

Students lingered after I officially ended class, until it was time for me to eat dinner and prepare for a meeting with some amazing former graduate students, where I told them the news as well. They were also shocked but congratulatory. There were no memes, but lots of love.

I am so grateful.

Grateful for the journey of the last seven years. Grateful for the new opportunities on this new path. Grateful to walk the walk of leadership and transformational change. Grateful to walk the walk of leadership as an Asian American woman and teacher educator. Grateful for community that I know won’t be far, even as our roads diverge ever so slightly.

It is almost the end of the semester, but just the beginning of the journey.

Blessings

Posted on February 27, 2020 by betinahsieh

There is so much in life that is about standing in the face of a storm to find the rainbow on the other side.

The first half of February felt like one of the hardest periods of my life. It was filled with deep grief, huge insecurities, and much self-doubt. It was a confluence of obligation and fear. I was on auto-pilot, surviving, day-by-day, sometimes moment-by-moment.

Then, there has been this last week, where blessing after blessing has come flowing in. As I’ve said no to one opportunity (because really I am learning that I can’t do it all), another one has come in that is truly aligned with all I’m up to and committed to in the world.

I am living and learning that sometimes you have to say no so that you can say a better yes.

I am so grateful for all of this, for the community that has supported me through this entire month, with all of its ups and downs, for the opportunities that I’ve said no to and those that I’ve said yes to, for my sweet family that is my constant in all of this work, for faith that sustains me when nothing else seems clear.

I am reclaiming my excellence. I am still standing after the storm.

I am so grateful.

Hard choices

Posted on February 15, 2020 by betinahsieh

This week, I spent most of the week agonizing over a very big decision. A decision between two great options. I had to make a choice between something known and beloved and something new and exciting. It was a choice between stability in the present and sustainability in the future. It was a choice that summoned multiple parts of my identity.

It was a very hard choice.

One that even now I am questioning.

The choice was made harder because it brought forth questions about who I really am, what I really want, and what I’m willing to compromise (and not compromise) about myself and my life.

People who deeply cared for me were going to disappointed when I made my choice. Although I knew that they would still care for me, I felt deeply troubled by this.

I made a choice.

It was a good choice.

But I still don’t know if it was the right choice.

Part of what always makes choices hard for me is the memory of my very worst choice. I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, the day my mother died. I was at my best friend’s house where I had spent the night because we were going to the movies the next day. My mom and I had gotten in some petty teenager-mom argument when she dropped me off the night before.

I woke up and I thought, “I should call her before she leaves for work to tell her I’m sorry. To tell her I love her”

But I chose not to call her. I didn’t call my mom because it was the era before cell phones. I was at my friend’s house and didn’t want to disturb anyone.

That morning she was killed crossing the street from our house to the bus stop.

For years, I was left wondering whether that call could have saved her life.

For years, I was left wondering if she was still upset when she woke up that morning, if she was lonely and sad as she crossed the street.

I wondered if her last memory of me was that of a petulant teenager.

This was not that choice.

This was a choice between two very good things.

But every choice feels like it seals my fate, like choosing the wrong thing means there will never be another choice to be made.

I know this is irrational, but trauma does the worst things to you. It makes you always doubt yourself even when everyone around you believes in your greatness.

It makes you cry on Valentine’s Day, the day before your son’s 14th birthday, although you should be filled with joy at the choices the universe has brought you, at the choices you have earned and created for yourself.

It makes you wonder what would have been.

Each big choice I’ve made since I was 16 years old lays bare my humanity, which is at once, the best and hardest part of me.

I made a hard choice today.

Grace and Gratitude: Final Reflection on EDSE 457 Fall 2019

Posted on December 15, 2019 by betinahsieh

The semester isn’t quite over yet. Grading remains. Observations remain. Final meetings remain.

In fact, even when the semester is over, it won’t be over for me because I have overlapping Spring & Fall semester student teachers…

But, classes are over and that means it’s time for my final reflection.

12 hours ago, I was feeling some kinda way about the previous 48 hours. I mean, I was feeling some kinda way about today because I’ve been feeling some kinda way about this day for the last 7 years.

But, life has taught me to ride the waves, to get it out so you can let it go.

To breathe in and then breathe out….

Mindfully.

In doing that, and in having the first moment in a long time where it is very quiet and there aren’t things to be done and I really just want to sit, write and reflect, with a warm cup of tea, I am finding peace, and grace and gratitude.

I am ready to think over this semester.

It has been an incredibly emotional, busy, exhausting semester.

I am super blessed to be surrounded by greatness. People in my life opened doors for me this semester and I walked through them. I started new collaborative projects, continued other collaborative projects, presented to new people, developed new ideas, pitched a TEDx talk that I’m giving in February, submitted some article manuscripts, taught some amazing students, mentored some others in their student teaching placements, led in some inspiring faculty professional learning spaces, helped edit a guidebook, pitched a couple of books, wrote a sabbatical application (fingers crossed), amplified Asian American voices in so many spaces I occupy personally and professionally, served in my faith community, served at my son’s school, started driving him to and from school more regularly, continued actively seeking out representation in books for my daughter, designed PRESCHOOL lesson plans (I’m a secondary teacher by trade so this is kind of a big deal), finished my second semester of Chinese language class.

Yeah, I guess it was kinda busy.

But, more than ever this semester, I centered compassion and mindfulness and tried to practice it in my work and my life. I infused it into each one of my classes. It helped get our class community through a lock down on campus. I was more mindful about representation in my curriculum that I’m committed to. I was more compassionate towards my students and myself. I gave us breaks. I took breaks.

I tried my best….except when I didn’t, and that was new, but it was a relief, because actually, the world didn’t collapse.

I didn’t always get the results I wanted. But that’s okay too, because it has helped me to grow.

At each moment where I’ve struggled, I’ve felt the support of my community, the deep love and connection of people who lift me up, who believe in me, who have connected with what I have to offer, who have connected with who I am.

In the hardest moments of this semester, my community has never let me give up or give in, although they have told me to eat and rest. They are a treasure and I wish for everyone in the world to have community like this.

EDSE 457 students, this semester, there were many times where I felt like I failed you, but your love and support, your learning and growth remind me that we are all doing the best we can. I love each of you, truly, and appreciate what you have to give to your future students. It was a gift and an honor to work with you. Thank you.

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