Friday, August 7, 2026

When Seoul Surprises: What Kimbap Taught Me About Sticking Together

One of the first things I wanted to try after returning home from Korea was how to make kimbap. We learned how to make one at the Seaweed Museum in Goyang. It wasn’t because I suddenly wanted to become a Korean cook. It was because kimbap had become part of our days in Seoul. We bought it from convenience stores before long bus rides. We packed it for an afternoon at the beach. It was simple, filling, and somehow always satisfying.

So ARMY Daughter and I decided to make tuna kimbap together. For her, it is a survival meal on the go. For me, it was a way to remember the cross-cultural experience having taught by a Pinay guide and invigilator at the Seaweed museum. It is something I want to share with friends at work.

As we spread the rice across the sheet of seaweed, I hesitated. I was afraid of putting too much. ARMY Daughter smiled and said,

“Put enough rice on the seaweed. It holds the rest of the ingredients together.”

I paused. Of course. The seaweed protects. The rice holds everything together. Without enough rice, the filling falls apart.

As we rolled the kimbap, I couldn’t help thinking about how rice has always been more than food across Asia. Whether it is served at breakfast, lunch, dinner, or even dessert, rice gathers families around a table. It accompanies celebrations and ordinary weekdays alike. It is humble, familiar, and often unnoticed precisely because it is always there.

This is the metaphor I keep.

ARMY is much the same, when I think about it.

We are wonderfully different. We come from different countries, generations, professions, and life stories. Some of us found BTS through Dynamite. Others have been here since No More Dream. We carry different experiences, different perspectives, and different seasons of life.

Yet something holds us together because we choose, over and over again, to return to what first brought us here: seven artists whose music taught us to listen more carefully, love more deeply, and become better people. Like rice in kimbap, it is often the quiet things that hold a community together.

Kindness. Respect. Generosity. Patience. Openness. The willingness to make room for one another.

Sometimes the most ordinary things become the memories we carry home. Kimbap wasn’t just a quick meal during our trip to Seoul. It became a reminder that joy often arrives simply and with humility, wrapped in seaweed and shared with people you love.


Looking back now, I realize that travel isn’t only about the places we visit. It’s about the stories we continue to tell long after we’ve returned home. Every time I make kimbap now, I think of ARMY Daughter’s simple reminder.

“Put enough rice on the seaweed.”

Communities are built the same way. Not by making ourselves the center of the story, but by becoming what quietly holds everyone else together.

Apobangpo! Purple and true! 💜

#BTSFESTA2026 #BTSArirang #koreanfood #seoultravel

Wednesday, August 5, 2026

AI Framework: AI Citizenship and Literacy

One of the things I appreciate about working in an IB school is that we are encouraged not only to adopt new technologies, but to ask better questions about them.



This AI Citizenship Framework reminds us that AI learning is more than mastering prompts or discovering new tools. It is a progression. From recognizing AI around us, to understanding it, using it critically, creating with it, and ultimately contributing to society through responsible stewardship.

I especially like that ethical thinking is not the destination but the foundation of every stage.


In the library, this reminds me that our role is no longer simply to teach students how to find information. We also help them question, evaluate, create, and act responsibly in an AI-enabled world.

Thank you, Zakir Hossain, for developing and sharing this framework. It offers a valuable language for conversations about AI in schools.

Saturday, August 1, 2026

New Children's Book: Talia Says I'm Sorry


New children's book! Cover reveal of "Talia Says I'm Sorry" 💜

As a children's book writer, I have always believed that stories can teach children how to be brave, kind, and accountable. Sometimes, they also heal the adults who write them. Sometimes we write the ending we wished life had offered, not to erase the past, but to imagine the world as it could be.

Kahit sa kathang isip, nag-sorry ka sa akin.

Maraming salamat, Lampara Books sa liwanag na handog ay paghilom.

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