Choosing Growth Over Comfort

 "Turning a long-held quiet longing into our family's next chapter."

The Dream That Never Died

I can't pinpoint the exact day it started, but for as long as I can remember as a teacher, the dream was always there. I wanted to experience studying abroad, achieve real fluency, and help my students discover the joy of language—learning not out of obligation for an exam, but out of genuine curiosity about the world.

But life happened. Marriage happened. Children happened. A steady job happened.

And yet, the dream never died.

Even when my sons were toddlers, I remember telling them, "Someday, Mom wants to go abroad to study." They were too young to really understand what I meant. But somehow I kept saying it out loud, as if speaking the dream might keep it alive inside me, refusing to let it fade into the background noise of daily routines.

As I spent years as a public school English teacher, I had to watch my students memorize vocabulary lists just to pass their exams—much like I did back in my high school days. There seemed to be no room for us to see English as a way to actually connect with the world. I always knew language learning was meant to be more than test prep, and honestly, I wanted to experience that "more" for myself.

As my sons grew older, that feeling became much harder to ignore. Watching my two boys—still in elementary school and curious about everything—I wanted to show them a broader picture of learning. I didn’t want them to grow up believing education is only about grades, but about following what truly sparks their interest.

I felt I needed to show them—through my own life—what it looks like to take a leap and learn something you genuinely desire. I wanted my boys to see their mother take on a new challenge, making mistakes and growing through them. More than anything, I wanted them to experience the true meaning of learning: that it isn't an obligation that ends with school, but a lifelong journey driven by what genuinely calls to your heart.

Eventually, I asked myself a simple question: If not now, when?

A Long-Held Dream, Not an Impulse

Taking this study leave wasn't a mid-life impulse. It was the result of holding onto a quiet dream for a very long time.

Throughout my teaching career, I always felt a gap between the teacher I was and the teacher I wanted to be. I could explain grammar rules and help students get good marks, but I wanted to offer something more. I wanted to help them use language as a bridge—a tool to connect with different cultures, perspectives, and ways of thinking.

To do that, I realized I needed to experience it first. I wanted to know what it’s like to actually live in another language—not just studying it in a textbook, but using it in daily life as naturally as I do Korean. And down the road, I hope to use this experience to help others, whether they are learning English, Korean, or any language that opens up new opportunities for them.

Now, someone might reasonably ask: "Do you really need to go abroad to become a good language teacher? Can't you teach well without being immersed in another country?"

It's a fair question. And honestly, there's no single right answer. Many excellent language teachers have never lived abroad. But here's my answer: I desperately want to.

Not because it's the only way. Not because it's required. But because this longing to immerse myself completely in another linguistic world has lived in my heart for years. Because I believe that when you follow what you truly, deeply yearn for – not what you should do, but what your soul genuinely hungers for – you become more alive. And that aliveness is what makes a teacher truly inspiring.

It might sound cliché, but not every answer is found in a book. I believe this journey itself will become my answer.

I don't want to teach from duty or competence alone. I want to teach from the fullness of having pursued what I genuinely desired, having taken the risk to follow my aspiration wherever it led.

I believe learning a language can truly open up your world. Mastering another language gives you access to new stories, different humor, and different ways of seeing what it means to be human. In a way, it makes you more than you used to be.

As we go through this experience together, I simply want my boys to see that learning shouldn't come from a fear of falling behind, but from a genuine desire to grow.

The Blessing from My Husband

For a long time, I told myself I was being responsible by keeping my dream on hold. First for my career, then for my marriage, then for raising my boys. There was always a good reason to wait for "someday."

But making this happen required a decision my husband and I had to face together. He had always known about my dream, and in a way, it was something he had been quietly keeping in mind, too. Still, it wasn't an easy choice by any means. We went back and forth for months, weighing the financial strain and the emotional toll of living apart.

Deep down, I felt guilty for putting so much on his shoulders, and part of me was fully prepared for a 'no.'

But we both knew that once our boys grew older, this window of opportunity would close for good. Knowing how much this meant to me, he finally made the brave call: "If we don't do this now, we'll never get another chance. Go before it's too late."

That was the moment my long-held dream finally became our shared decision.

What "budnbird" Means

A bud represents where I am right now—44 years old, but just beginning to sprout in a new direction. It reminds me that it’s never too late to be a beginner.

A bird represents where I’m headed—building wings strong enough to sustain the work I truly love, and free enough to soar between different languages and cultures.

A Record of These Precious Years

These two years are far too precious to let fade away. I want to capture this journey—partly to share a piece of my story with others, but mostly to leave a genuine record for myself. And perhaps one day, my sons will read this and understand what was going on in their mother’s heart and mind during this time.

I don’t know exactly where this path will take me, but I know it leads to a place that feels far more real and authentic than where I used to be. And I want to remember every single step of the way.