Who?

As the sun sets upon the streets, I often see an aged man.

He wanders and stop; talking to himself, he must be lost.

Some say he has been waiting for his lover; however, he has been lonely for so many years.

Some say he has been looking for his children for many years.

Who knows who he is?

Who knows who he is looking for?

Once again, with the winds blowing through the bitter cold, the sun sets upon people rushing along the streets.  

I see him again, but this time, he is wearing even more wrinkles like the wind withering away the youth of a tree.

He follows along with the crowd like a child stumbling, losing balance.

Then...gradually, he slows his foot steps and looks ahead of him, his expression filled with panic.

Who knows who he is?

Who knows of his whereabouts?

Suddenly, the wild wind howls.

In a blink of an eye, the streets are empty.

A dear friendship

The merciless rain, the ruthless wind

have swept away the dear friendship between us.

A lonely shadow appears in the drizzling rain before dawn. Your story has taken a rest mark. 

When I think about your wanderings in an unknown realm, I see you holding back endless tears of pain.

Your heart is full of yearnings.

Thinking about it hurts me deeply in the heart.

If you want to cry, please do so.

My clothes is your handkerchief.

If you are tired, if you cannot walk anymore, I will carry you on my back for life. Unfortunately, all is late.

I anguish over your unjust sufferings and my inability to help you bear your burdens.

I am wistful of walking by your side until forever.  Our dear friendship is deep and difficult to part.

If I could own every tomorrow,

I will make promises to you that I will not regret.

My love for you will live forever.

The World Outside

Long, long ago, you were mine, I was yours.

Long, long ago, you left me, spread your wings to fly on your own.

The world outside is filled with exciting challenges.

Yet the world outside is filled with matters beyond your grasp.

When you realize your ability to achieve the challenges, I will be standing here truthfully giving you my full support and encouragement.

Everyday when the sun sets on the west, I will be standing here expecting you.

When you realize the obstacles encountered are beyond your grasp, I am stilling here patiently waiting for you to overcome them.

Though the sky is drifting with rain, I will  still be standing here waiting patiently for your eventual return.

I will  still be standing here waiting patiently for your eventual return.

(A simple yet meaningful translation: 外面的世界）

The Snowing Cherry Blossoms

When spring is gone, what is left of the sadness behind me?

I often see my former self,

making decisions thoughtlessly.

And not knowing the reason why I continue to latch on to my stubbornness.

Redemption 

A sudden gush of wind blows against my face. As I turn around, I see pink cherry blossoms falling like snow against the breeze.

The wind continues to blow, blowing my foolishness, my unrestrained indulgences.

Amelioration.  

My broken memories continue to drift like the snow-like palest pink petals. They are filled with distant nostalgia that are no longer tangible and cannot be seen with the bare eyes. Who are the loved ones who are still lingering in my thoughts?

Acceptance.

I continue to walk along this path of cherry blossom trees.......

Home

今天突然很想回家. 最近每個週末都會出去散散心.  一向獨來獨往的我看著滿街都是人.  看見一家人開心得共進午餐.  看見一群朋友從戲院走出來歡樂的笑聲. 已經很久沒有和家人朋友好好得聚聚.  「家」這個字對我來說很遙遠，幾乎觸碰不到.  雖然在台灣收獲很多也學習到了許多累積了教學經驗，今天我任然覺得這個島還是那麼得陌生.  我的「家」只能用想像力來安慰自己. 家的新鮮空氣，熟悉環境， 還有我搞笑的哥哥，表姊妹弟們，還有我的寶貝狗狗. 繼續等待........回家的那天.  在一年兩年，不知道.....

Chapter 5: A New Picture - "Infinitism"

A new beginning. A new place to seek refuge in the mind and soul.  Wandering thoughts have long dissipated.  I have picked up my pencil once again.  Am moving on and putting my acquired knowledge into use.  My canvas is no longer white.  It is filled with different shades. I have begun this piece of artwork a year ago.  Though it has not reached completion, it has been titled "Infinitism."  

Art is everywhere. Everything we do is an art.  Teaching is an art.  An art that calls forth internal and external transformation in light of knowledge, creation, and wisdom.  Every word I instruct - verbal and written.  The effective dialogue created with the students. Understanding the efficacy and conduciveness of the material designed for students.  All elements elegantly weaved together form a work of art.  

I am still polishing this art. This picture I have chosen to paint is an unending process.  Frustration. Sleepless nights.  Endless contemplation, analyzation, synthesis, and self-evaluation. Incessant self-reflecting in my instruction, curriculum/material design, test design, and collaboration with colleagues.  All contribute to shaping students into effective, active, and independent learners.

Have I changed? Am I exhibiting more conviction in what I do? Have I ascended one level higher in terms of improving onself? I ask myself these questions  everyday. I try not to let my doubts inhibit my ultimate goal in helping the students become successful learners.  

Teaching ELLs continues to be a challenging task for all of us, but the greatness about specializing in this art is having the opportunity to witness the students acquire the English language, each taught with instructions tailored to their needs and personality.  

           Seeing shy learners blossom into active participants, asking endless questions.  

           Seeing learners string meaningful words together into sentences, paragraphs, and essays.

           Seeing learners attempting to read and comprehend a novel.

This new picture ........I believe is a turning point - a life-changing moment allowing me to answer my inner queries about my purpose here on Earth.

Under the Stars

Once again.

Time continues to fleetingly dissipate into thin air. My surroundings have silently changed. This stabbing memory has aged in a blink of an eye. A precious bond, kinship, hastily scattered in one night. Gone. 

I stand under the lonely night sky.
I dare not to look up at the glimmering stars filled with precious recollections.
Everything shattered momentarily, once again. Let time continue to veil this scar.

I stand under the lonely night sky,
Reminiscing all the lost promises once made.  Unable to discern the countless brilliant stars piercing the night sky　
The pain resurfacing and haunting me, once again.

Suppress. In the night. Under the stars.