Samantha Georgi

I somewhat unwittingly landed myself at one of the most conservative colleges in the United States. It was a school that didn’t accept a cent of federal funding so faculty could legally say things like “women’s studies isn’t a discipline that has withstood the test of time, so we don’t offer it here.” Despite this and so many other perplexities that made me want to run away, I stayed. I stayed because my professors—who all saw themselves as Socrates reincarnated—were united in their goal of teaching me how to ask questions and made me feel like I was on a quest for truth. At the heart of everything we discussed, the same question echoed: “what is good?” They taught me that in order to judge whether something is good or bad, I first needed to understand its purpose. (The purpose of a cup is to securely hold water and fit in the palm of my hand; if it does, I can say it's a good cup!) I learned how to extend this line of thinking to everything, including my own assignments: what is the purpose of my essay? As I defined the purpose, I formed a clear picture of what a “good essay” should look like. By the time I graduated, I came to the conclusion that defining the purpose of a cup or an essay is easy, but a good government? A good life? A good human being? Those are things not as easily defined. 

I grew to love the power of creative, critical, and inquiring questions. Often in the process of asking questions, we realize that things once thought to be distant and different from us are in actuality close, similar, and relevant. People believe different things, act in different ways, and have different goals, but in the end all people possessing stable minds are trying to answer the same question: what does doing good and being good look like? When we realize that every conflict is the result of an inability to agree on an answer to this question, the world becomes a far less frightening place. When we realize that people a thousand years ago asked the same question, the past becomes alive and meaningful. 
   

When I was a college junior, I decided I wanted to become a teacher, but my school didn’t have a traditional teacher certification program (rather, it tracked teacher candidates into positions at classical and Perennial schools). Instead of choosing that route, I graduated with a degree in History and made a jarring transition into the incredibly Liberal post-graduate teacher certification program at Michigan State University. Studies of privilege and oppression transformed the way I saw the world, and studies of Progressive education transformed the way I defined the purpose of schools. As my experience as a teacher continued, my love of content faded while my love of people and skills grew: I no longer saw myself as the “sage on the stage” but as the “guide on the side.” I came to condemn many aspects of my undergraduate experience—but certainly not the way I was taught to question. I still believe that questions are magical, that anyone can be taught to question boldly, and that the discussion of “what is good” can be incorporated into every class in order to propel conversation in a direction that is meaningful and relevant.

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In 2014, I was incredibly fortunate to accept my first teaching position at Korea International School Jeju Campus, and I have been a member of the faculty ever since. In my first year, I covered sections of grade 7 English Lit and grade 7 Global Studies. Additionally, I taught the high school Economics and Psychology electives. I’d never taught this content before, but I quickly learned that I didn’t need a deep mastery of content knowledge to be a good teacher: I needed solid instructional strategies and authentic assessment design. I no longer teach these courses, but new teachers of our Economics and Psychology classes still follow the unit map that I designed, assign my projects, and sometimes even use the lecture slides that I created!

 

Currently, I teach high school grade 10 Global Studies classes, the Yearbook elective, and a new elective I designed called Digital Media Publications. My transition from a humanities teacher into a digital media teacher began a few years ago when our journalism teacher left: as one of the most flexible members of the faculty at the time, I was asked to teach the vacant class. In addition to producing a school newspaper, the journalism class also created a yearbook, but neither publication was being prioritized and both were suffering. I have been an avid user of Adobe programs since middle school, and so when the decision was eventually made to create separate Journalism and Yearbook courses, I was the choice to teach Yearbook while another teacher was assigned the Journalism class. 

 

As a teacher with a master’s degree in Education who is certified to teach secondary English, History, and Social Studies, I never imagined myself teaching a technology/art class, yet here I am. The class grew in popularity, and I enthusiastically took on more sections. I love teaching Yearbook as a combination of photography, videography, Adobe skills, layout design, and marketing. I use ISTE technology standards and emphasize a Design Thinking Process. Just as in my humanities courses, my Yearbook students keep journals to set goals, reflect on their learning, justify their choices, and assess their strengths and weaknesses. Regardless of what class I teach, I will always emphasize language learning, engage students with meaningful projects, and cultivate both critical and creative thinking skills with intention. 

 

I know that “Yearbook” doesn’t look impressive on my resume, but I am not some passive club advisor. The courses that I designed are vocabulary-rich, scaffolded with precision, and focused on skills that students can use for the rest of their lives. I take this class seriously, and I hope that you will, too! I love teaching history and English courses, but I would be equally happy running your school’s yearbook program.

 

My Adobe skills were also needed at KISJ to make school documents, advertisements, social media posts, and other communications, so in addition to teaching Yearbook, I have also worked part-time on the marketing team. My primary contribution was the creation of our bi-annual magazine, the “Dragons Dispatch.” If your school is in need of someone who can make documents look polished and professional, I would also be thrilled to help in that capacity. 

 

I currently teach alongside my husband, Nickolas Harris, who holds master’s degrees in Secondary Education and Administration. Nick has recently taught History, social studies, debate, MUN, and AP Capstone Research. He is highly involved in extracurricular activities including soccer, DECA, and MUN. His entrepreneurial spirit has led him to found three international MUN conferences, and he is always looking for new projects.

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