A New Chapter
The uncertainty of my future loomed larger with each passing day on the brink of graduation. I couldn’t help but ponder, ‘What’s next?’
As someone who tends to see the glass as half-empty, I perceived the future as somewhat bleak. Being a foreigner, the challenge was intensified by the requirement of obtaining a work visa—which meant I had to excel at the field I was applying for. The primary hindrance was my college degree—was, and continues to be, unaccredited.
Despite my confidence in my teaching abilities, I couldn’t shake off the anxiety that accompanied the uncertainty of the future. After all, my desire to extend my stay in this country was fueled by the aspiration to pursue a Master’s Degree from one of the few, rare universities that would consider my Bachelor’s degree. Without it, any job application in the future would be significantly arduous. I speak from experience, as I had encountered difficulties due to the limited number of places that would even consider my job application.
After submitting applications to numerous schools for a high school teaching position in the upcoming academic year, I swiftly received a response following an interview.
I. WAS. ACCEPTED!!!
I was overjoyed, on cloud nine, over the moon when I heard the news.
Primarily because I could finally break free from the school where I had been interning. Despite my love for my students and the significant effort I put into my work with them, my misalignment with the administrators had reached a tipping point. Coming from a conservative Christian environment, I yearned to escape this place, and anything similar to it for good.
A few months ago, I hesitated as I applied for the student teaching internship at this location—L. Academy.
The only reason why I ended up in this place (despite countless internal cries, screams, and kicks, resisting every ounce of energy not to land there) was that it was the only door that opened while I was searching for an internship spot that paid for my student debt. I tried convincing myself that maybe this place was a lot better than the one I was in. Cheers to a brand-new beginning!
Alas, my first instinct was right. Despite trying to talk myself into loving the place, I found myself in a worse spot than where I came from originally. I had hoped that somehow the experiences here would help me grow and succeed not just in my professional development but spiritually as well.
As a student teacher, I looked forward to learning and sharpening my teaching skills, expecting proper mentoring and guidance. However, upon arrival, I was confronted with an immense workload. In addition to English, which was my primary focus of study, I was also tasked with teaching several math classes.
Houston, we have a problem: I hate math, and I’m terrible at it!
However, this was the responsibility I had to bear, given that they treated me more like an employee than an intern. Instead of receiving proper guidance, I was informed that I was the most skilled person in the building for the profession, and I was left to manage numerous classes on my own. I felt like I was pushed into the deep end of the pool as a beginner swimmer, depending on nothing but my floaties to survive. I hadn’t acquired any teaching methods for math, and I still needed to grasp the intricacies of teaching English, especially since this was my first time in the field.
On top of my own online classes, I had to prepare for subjects that were unchartered waters. I tried to get used to the schedule, but more responsibility kept piling up one after the other. Soon, I was drowning in a sea of responsibilities, some I took upon my shoulders (study halls every evening), as my main goal was to see the students succeed.
I thought I did well as a teacher, and I hoped my efforts would be cherished and appreciated, considering all the extra effort I put in. I wished I could have done more, but by the third month of the school year, I was completely burned out. I was looking for a way out, but after giving it some thought, I decided to stay for the students for the full school year. Again, my reputation in this place was not in the best light either, as I spoke up against injustice and fought for the students in that boarding school. Ultimately, my personality posed as my worst enemy. After reaching out to the administrators and pleading for teachers to have a dedicated time to grade on Fridays instead of working at the nursing home, I received this text from the school that was supposed to employ me for the next school year:
“Hi Min, I have bad news. We have realized the visa process is too much for us to do at this time. There are quite a few concerns that have come to light in this process. I'm really sorry to withdraw our offer for employment at B. Academy, not only for summer but also for next school year. I do hope that you find something amazing.”
I sat there, stunned, my mind racing at more than 100 miles an hour.
“What am I supposed to do with my life now? I thought.
My entire world crumbled into pieces. The job that was assured to me was ruthlessly snatched away instantly. In a frenzy, like a maniac, I began applying to other positions. Initially, I had intended to apply to a school in California, but this opportunity presented itself first. I believed it to be a godsend.
I meticulously filled up 10 pages worth of information in the application to the California school, followed by an interview that I thought went quite well. It seemed like an ideal place for me to work, as I loved the environment, enjoyed ministering to high school students, and as an added bonus, I could also take a Master’s class in their affiliated university per term—a benefit I could not refuse.
One week passed by, and then another.
I reached out to inquire about my position, and the secretary replied with, “We will get back to you in a few days…”
My heart sank. I knew something was amiss in this equation, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I prayed the same prayer for the next two weeks:
“God, if it’s Your will, please let this be done… I really need a job…”
Two more weeks elapsed, and still no news. Upon writing back, I received the same response.
Mid-July was approaching, and schools were set to open in less than a month.
I stubbornly clung to hopes that I’d get accepted in California, yearning for things to work out. However, a still, small, voice guided me in a different direction. After praying and consulting with trusted individuals, I resolved to apply to other schools, recognizing that waiting was no longer a wise strategy, especially with my visa status looming.
After extensive searching, I received a call back from another school, H Academy, which was located three hours away from me. The interview went well.
Or so I thought.
The following day, the principal called me back to inquire about some of the “concerns that came to light.” L. Academy, where I interned, had shared some “concerning traits” about me, to which I responded by carefully explaining my side of the story.
The day after, they called back with good news—the job was on the table. However, I had my reservations about working there. My reputation was tarnished even before I started working there. My main concern was living under scrutiny, trying to please everyone while burning myself out. Although it wasn’t my first choice, as I had sworn off all conservative Christian schools due to a lack of choices, I agreed, hoping for better offers soon.
Later that afternoon, I received another call from H. Academy as they sought to clarify the situation.
“Miss Wong, there are some more concerns about you that came up as we hung up the phone…”
“Oh no! What is it this time?” I asked.
“Apparently the principal from your previous school called. This is quite concerning because I heard that you cuss?
“No! I would never!” I said.
“Ok thanks. Another concern that was brought up was the fact that you threatened to sue the school?”
Again, this never happened.
I found myself countering a barrage of outrageous lies spun against me, almost drawn to tears, helpless in this situation.
Then it dawned on me: I was sabotaged relentlessly by my previous workplace! That was why I could not secure any jobs although the interview process seemingly went well.
While I was angry at L. Academy, I knew I could not dwell on this incident. Soon after, another job fell into my lap when my friend, Yuki, called to inform me about the opening for a math teacher in a high school of different denomination. I applied immediately.
I realized that the probability of me getting accepted to this school may have been a bit of a stretch as I lacked sufficient qualifications. This, however, sparked a glimmer of hope in me. I’d be venturing into a place where people didn’t know me, and those people had no connections with the previous denominational schools that caused me so much harm. That meant that they had no knowledge of the falsehood that was spread about me. I could finally commence a new chapter with a clean slate!
I would do anything to escape the rut I was caught in, even if it meant removing my previous workplace from my résumé— my sole teaching experience. Omitting it would imply a lack of internship experience, but leaving it posed the risk of jeopardizing the job when they would call L. Academy for a reference check.
Despite feeling extremely uncomfortable, I knew I had to omit L. Academy from my résume, and in exchange, I replaced their name with a small academy that I used to work for a while ago. It was a pivotal moment for me. Despite my aversion towards math, I yearned for a fresh start, to embark on this new chapter of life without any preconceived expectations. I truly desired the job.
The interview went well; however, it came at the cost of overwhelming guilt and shame. Altering my résumé felt like a survival tactic, a desperate move. I repeatedly assured myself, “It’s for survival. You need to do this; you were desperate.”
Even though I later confessed and sought forgiveness from the administrator, I still grappled with intense guilt. I had directly disobeyed God’s commandment, violating His law in a bid for “survival,” driven by selfish motives.
I felt a deep sense of shame when contemplating the sacrifices of martyrs such as John Huss or the Waldenses—individuals who faced the agonizing fate of being burned alive yet steadfast in their unwavering faith in God. Placing myself in their shoes, I pondered a crucial question: Would I recant my faith in a similar situation, or would I stand firm until the end? Sadly, given the circumstances I faced, I feared that I would likely have failed, and failed miserably.
Additionally, I reflected on the story of Daniel, who, in the face of imminent danger and the risk of losing his own life, continued to pray with his windows open, fully aware that this act would place him at a disadvantage with his persecutors. Yet, he prayed with unwavering conviction, firmly believing in God’s supremacy and that He would exceed any impending persecution he might face, even at the risk of death. Daniel trusted that God would work out His will and plan in his life, and indeed, his trust in God’s will and plan proved well-founded—God intervened and shut the lion’s mouth when he was thrown into a den of hungry lions, sparing Daniel’s life.
Comparing myself to these examples, I recognized my tendency to retreat to perceived safety to secure something that I deeply desired. I longed for a faith akin to Daniel’s, one that placed complete trust in God, and the faith of the martyrs who held such a profound relationship with God that they willingly sacrificed their lives for the truth. This realization underscored my commitment to prioritizing Jesus above all else, trusting Him to navigate every facet of my life. It served as a powerful lesson, revealing my tendency to falter in the face of difficulty. I pray earnestly for strength to overcome and resist temptations that the world might present.
