Hi guys, my name is Kevin Lai, and I am a High School History Teacher.

I used to think I was calm. My students called me “Mr. Lai the Gentle.” My wife told her friends she was lucky because I never shouted. To most people, I looked patient, steady, and easy-going.

But the truth was darker. I wasn’t calm—I was numb. Whenever I felt anger rising, I buried it so deep that even I couldn’t find it.

I told myself anger was dangerous, so I swallowed it whole. Over the years, that silence hardened inside me. At home, I grew distant. At school, I hide behind a facade of politeness. Inside, I felt like I was slowly disappearing.

How I Ended Up at a Pop Workshop

It happened unexpectedly. A former student, who is now a psychology major at the university, invited me.

She said:

“Teacher, you always taught us that history is about facing the truth. Maybe it’s time you faced yours. Come to a pop workshop with me.”

At first, I laughed. What could a “workshop” possibly teach me? I was almost 40, not a lost teenager. But something in her eyes made me pause. A week later, I signed up.

The Exercise That Cracked the Wall

On the first day, the mentor asked us to share a moment when we felt powerless. I thought I would just say something small, but instead I remembered a childhood scene.

I was about ten years old, standing in front of my father after breaking a glass. I wanted to explain it was an accident, but I stayed quiet. That habit of staying quiet followed me into adulthood.

As I shared the story, I realized I still carried that silence in many parts of my life.

One of the group members, a teacher in her 40s, said, “I know that feeling. I grew up the same way.”

It was simple, but it helped me see I wasn’t the only one. That moment made me realize how much of my life was shaped by holding back.

What I Learned After the Pop Workshop

I didn’t become an angry man. I became an honest one.

I started telling my wife when I felt frustrated instead of pretending nothing was wrong. I spoke openly with my students about stress and the importance of learning from mistakes. And to my surprise, people respected me more—not less.

The pop workshop wasn’t about unleashing anger—it was about giving me permission to feel. I realized that peace doesn’t come from avoiding emotions. It comes from facing them.

My Truth Today

For years, I thought being calm meant being silent. But silence isn’t calmness—it’s absence.

Today, I still value patience, but I no longer bury myself alive. I laugh louder, argue when I need to, and speak with more heart than ever before.

If you’ve ever been afraid of your own emotions, maybe it’s not fear you need to conquer. Maybe it’s honesty you need to embrace.

For me, that journey began in a room I almost didn’t walk into—a pop workshop.