Bienvenue au Blog de
Be the Change !
Part One of Three
Et si vous découvrez mon histoire dans ma langue maternelle ?
J’ai décidé de (re)prendre ma plume en anglais, pour 3 raisons.
La première : pour faciliter mon écriture ! Même si j’adore parler et écrire en français, je me fais régulièrement aidée pour des relectures (merci encore à mon chéri et à mes ami.e.s qui ont largement contribué en relisant ce site !). En anglais, je peux vraiment gagner en temps et en facilité pour m’exprimer #americangirl.
La deuxième raison : j’aime écrire et si j’écris en anglais, je le ferai plus souvent. Depuis toute petite, écrire à été pour moi une passion. Je tenais un « journal » depuis aussi longtemps que je peux me souvenir.
Et la troisième raison : pour partager davantage avec vous, et de façon plus approfondi qu’un story sur Instagram, par exemple.
Ready to practice your English and discover more about who I am ?
Why a blog?
Ooooh I am already savoring writing in English, and it’s only the first sentence, ah!
So, why this blog?
It is actually how I first began my life project, without necessarily knowing it. Back in college, at Loyola University of Chicago (where the photo here was taken), I truly loved writing and I had my own WordPress blog where I wrote about my life, my studies, my relationships, about the world and how to make it a better place.
It feels like a coming home to begin writing again, and it is also a big part of what I want to achieve : share my own story with the hope that perhaps it can inspire others to follow their own unique dreams.
The Be the Change Blog will be dedicated to simple, straight-forward articles that are meant to :
– share my own feelings and thoughts on various topics related to family and parenting;
– inspire you, whether you are a future parent, starting out on your parenting journey, or an organization dedicated to contributing to a better society through supporting families and parents;
– be joyful! I want this space to be an energetic place, where readers can come to raise their vibrations, feel hopeful, learn something new, put a new family tradition into place, with positivity and joy.
More than ever, our world needs women, men and children who can be themselves, connected to their potentials. I hope that these articles that you will find here can inspire you and perhaps others to connect to your potential, first for yourself, and to share with your loved ones and society at large.
My Story : Part One of Three : Dreams and Cornfields
I have already written an extensive part of my story in French, that you can read just here, if you like. The idea here is to begin at the beginning, to go back to my childhood and share more about the inspiration that I received from my family, friends and educators, in forming who I have become today and how I came to create « Be the Change » early 2022.
In this first part of a 3-part series, I want to share with you about my growing up in Omaha, Nebraska, with a special passage dedicated to my mother and her contribution to my vocation as an educator.
In Part 2, I will share more about how traveling as a young child made a huge difference in my life and opened my eyes to the world. And I will share more about my father and my step-father, two men who have contributed to my life and my view of parenting in profound ways, each in their own unique styles.
In Part 3, I will write about Ethical Leadership and the impact it continues to have in my life, and how you can learn more about it, too
Part 1 : In My Mother’s Classroom.
When I was little, I remember our house on Hanscom Boulevard. It had a big backyard and it was on the corner, just across the street from a church. It had a lovely tree in the backyard that my sister and I would play under on hot summer days, school out between May and August. My parents had moved there from the east coast when I was just 1 year old. If you close your eyes and point to a map of the United States, chances are, you will « land » on Omaha, Nebraska.
From a very young age, I really loved being around people. This trait, I believe, I really inherited from my mother.
My mother, Elizabeth, was a professor of English at the university level, teaching to students from all over the world. Primarily, she taught to young adults from Asia : Japan, Vietnam, Korea. She was so open-hearted, so loving and such a great organizer; she would invite her students, brand new to the US, over for dinner, even when we didn’t have that much money. She would open our home and all of a sudden, we were very wealthy: in laughter, in sharing, in warm voices sharing delicious meals together. Growing up, I so admired her, her ability to find joy each day, in the simple moments of life, around good meals, around rituals, around warm breakfasts that she would make us before school and before her long days of teaching.
I remember so vividly how I would sit at the kitchen table, watching her cook in her lovely dresses and blouses, putting food on the table for her little ones after working all day. My parents divorced when I was 3 years old, and though I was little, I remember the weight of that. I remember being so observant, my senses sort of heightened, and I would take to drawing, writing, reading, as a way of processing that difficulty of parents who separate. I remember looking through her course books, and her grade book, where she had marked the grades of her students, passing my hands over the sheets of paper she would correct, a way to connect with her after long days at school when I would miss her.
One day, my sister and I weren’t feeling very well, and we couldn’t go to school. A single mom, without a lot of family close by, my mother did not have another solution than to take us with her to her classes at the university that day. I will forever be grateful for that, because I remember that day, crystal clear.
I must have been about 6 years old, my younger sister, Amelia, was 3. We were set up at a little « assistants » table next to our mother’s desk. The class of about 20 college students could not have been happier to see us. They were so honored to meet their professor’s children. I remember their smiles, I remember my mother’s smile, too. I remember that feeling of being in a classroom, happy. The meaning that was there. The drawings of exquisite quality given to me on napkins by the students when we had lunch next to some of them that day, my name written in Japanese. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t « read » it; I could feel it, the brushstrokes infused with kindness.
Is it honestly so surprising that my own vocation revealed itself to be in teaching, in education, and now, in consulting and supporting those desiring to learn and to discover new ways of being, and doing?
I intend to write a book, including more passages about my childhood, because I have so much to share about these foundational moments. If they happened for me, they happened for millions, these moments that mark us all, that become a part of who we are, that contribute, consciously and subconsciously, to building who we become, who we are, as human beings.
For now, I will leave it here, to say: I love you, mom. « Thank you » will never be enough, but it’s a start.
See you soon for Part 2, dear reader!
Until then, perhaps there is someone in your life whom you wish to thank? To share your awareness now as an adult, of how they contributed to your life in a positive way?
All the best to you and your family, in whatever form that may be.