By Jacqueline Jensen
I write this blog to you from my current home in Shanghai, China. In 2022, I made the leap from the safety of my tenured teaching position at a public charter school in Honolulu to the unpredictable world of international education. One two-year contract at a time–in order to see more of the world and grow as a person and educator–I am still teaching abroad. Over the past three years, I’ve taught in international schools in South Korea and China, and I hope to continue this journey in Europe someday.
I identify as a progressive educator because of the path I’ve taken through my own education and professional experiences. Coming from a background where I witnessed the challenges families face in an unequal society, I came to believe deeply in education as a force for equity and expanded opportunity. These early insights continue to shape how I understand the purpose and potential of teaching.
Attending American public schools from kindergarten through 12th grade, earning my undergraduate degree from a politically progressive university, and working in some of Honolulu’s most underfunded elementary schools taught me that a well-rounded education must include not only the skills and dispositions necessary for social change, but also the confidence to see oneself as an active change agent and the empathy to truly understand others’ perspectives.
In 2015, Alfie Kohn outlined the elements of progressive education, including:
“Social Justice: A sense of community and responsibility for others isn’t confined to the classroom; indeed, students are helped to locate themselves in widening circles of care that extend beyond self, beyond friends, beyond their own ethnic group, and beyond their own country. Opportunities are offered not only to learn about, but also to put into action, a commitment to diversity and to improving the lives of others” (pp. 2–4).
I have discovered my “why” of education: to help students develop a sense of social responsibility in service of themselves and others, with the goal of creating a more just, sustainable, and peaceful world for all.
In Honolulu, I taught at a charter school for seven years — a place where I was encouraged to take risks, honor the ʻāina, and even speak truth to power. Out of both necessity and creative instinct, I often veered into uncharted territory to meet the needs of my diverse student body. We celebrated Día de los Muertos by building altars with photos of loved ones who had passed. We wrote, directed, and performed our own adaptation of The Little Match Girl for our winter celebration. We took regular field trips to the nearest lo‘i, where students literally got knee-deep in mud while learning about Native Hawaiian approaches to sustainability. While public charter schools certainly come with limitations, a lack of creativity isn’t one of them.
I don’t want to romanticize the experience — the pay was low, the workload was heavy, and the challenges were real. But it remains the most rewarding teaching experience of my life, and I carry an infinite number of proud, joyful memories from those years. I also participated in Hanahauʻoli’s first Leaders of Social Justice in Education cohort in 2020, which had a profound influence on how I teach about identity, justice, diversity, and action. Prior to that, I spent five years teaching in a Montessori school. Suffice it to say, I came to be identified as a dyed-in-the-wool progressive educator — someone who believes our job is to prepare children to thrive in a diverse democracy and contribute meaningfully to a more just, sustainable world.
When I began teaching 5th grade in Asia, one of the first things I noticed was how long the school day was. Students were in class until 4 p.m., then off to academies for additional tutoring in math, English, music, languages, or sports. Even though my school in Korea was “progressive” compared to other Korean public schools, there was still immense pressure around test scores and academic outcomes. We mapped standards months in advance and scheduled formal assessments like clockwork.
Rooted in Confucian values and shaped by complex histories, both South Korea and China approach education in ways that diverge significantly from the progressive practices I had been steeped in. In these contexts, tradition often guides pedagogy, and many of the methods I had used in Montessori and charter school settings — open-ended inquiry, self-directed learning, philosophical discussions — were viewed with skepticism. As a foreign teacher, my main role
was to help students develop academic English proficiency and build the skills needed to thrive in globalized, international contexts. College admissions were the ultimate measure of success — not student agency, voice, or well-being.
This reality often clashed with my own values as a progressive educator. I tried to prioritize social justice and make space for student-led inquiry, but many of my students — brilliant, respectful, and hardworking — had been conditioned to defer to authority and meet expectations. When I invited them to generate ideas for a group project or share their personal views, many were uncomfortable or unsure how to begin. Some openly preferred taking a multiple-choice test over doing a creative project that required them to think deeply and make personal connections.
It led me to ask: What happens when your deeply held beliefs about education meet systems that prioritize different values? And: How can I show respect for the culture I’m living in while still nudging toward change?
In South Korea, a country still technically at war and shaped by a long history of colonization and resilience, I sought out entry points for students to explore identity, injustice, and empathy. One of my most meaningful teaching experiences came during an interdisciplinary humanities unit themed around “children in crisis.” We began the year with When My Name Was Keoko by Linda Sue Park, a novel about Japanese occupation in Korea. Alongside the novel, we studied the founding of the United Nations and human rights. Students engaged in passionate discussions and reflected on what they might have done in such a time and place. It was the kind of unit that ignited the classroom with purpose.
Later in the year, we studied The Night Diary by Veera Hiranandani, an epistolary novel set during the partition of India. Students also watched the documentary Daughters of Destiny, about the Shanti Bhavan school for Dalit children. We explored the roots of the caste system and its modern-day consequences, drawing connections between history and the present. I watched my students wrestle with complex questions, debate with empathy, and think critically about justice. It was beautiful.
Furthermore, our required unit on Ancient Greece and Rome became a rich opportunity to examine contradictions in the birth of democracy, and to connect ancient systems with modern governments. Through p4cHI (Philosophy for Children) circles, students questioned the legacy of these civilizations and engaged in profound inquiry and debate.
Even our field trips were required to be highly academic, so my curriculum coordinator and I created scavenger hunts with content-informed questions for students to complete at the War Memorial of Korea, the National Museum of Korea, and the National Folk Museum. My co-teacher and I made sure to include time for sunshine and snacks — and some spontaneous K-pop dancing, of course — but those moments of play and connection were often just small breathers in an otherwise rigorously scheduled day.
I’m proud to say all of these units were conducted in English and met ambitious academic goals. But more importantly, I hope they helped my students develop strong moral compasses, find their voices — and gain the confidence to use them.
I’m grateful that I’ve had the chance to teach children from all over the world and challenge my own assumptions in the process. Moving abroad has been one of the most difficult decisions I’ve ever made, but also one of the most transformative. It’s pushed me to define my “why” over and over again — and to hold onto it, even in environments that don’t always make it easy.
Because wherever I go, I still believe in helping children become compassionate thinkers, curious questioners, and brave contributors to their world.
And when I’m not teaching, I’m planning my next trip...
Books That Help Me Along the Way
Onward: Cultivating Emotional Resilience in Educators by Elena Aguilar
Start Here, Start Now: A Guide to Antibias and Antiracist Work in Your School Community by Liz Kleinrock
The Culture Map: Breaking Through the Invisible Boundaries of Global Business by Erin Meyer
Articles
Kohn. A. Progressive Education: Why It's Hard to Beat But Also Hard to Find.
ABOUT THE Contributor:
Jacqueline Jensen — Ms. Jackie to her students — is an international educator who has worked full-time in education since 2008. Her teaching background spans Montessori classrooms, nine years in Hawaiian public schools, and international schools in Korea and China. Both her life and professional experiences have shaped her firm belief that education should be a tool for promoting justice, equity, and wellbeing — and that teachers are most effective when teaching in culturally responsive ways. Over the past decade, Jacqueline has explored places tied to her own cultural heritage, including Hawai‘i, China, and Denmark. She holds a B.A. from UC Berkeley and an M.Ed. from Hawai‘i Pacific University, and has recently begun studies in the International Baccalaureate (IB) program. She loves learning new approaches from her travels and diverse experiences, and isn’t afraid to challenge her own assumptions. She’s also honing her foreign language skills — speaking intermediate French and “failing forward” in beginning Mandarin.
