A few days ago, I opened my Google Calendar and noticed the word “Cheongmyeong” marked on April 4. For a brief moment, I mistook it for a reunion with friends from my hometown. I was born in Cheongmyeong Village, Gui-myeon, in Wanju County, Jeollabuk-do. My parents still live there, and I myself attended Cheongmyeong Elementary School for a time. To me, Cheongmyeong is not just a seasonal term—it’s the name of a place where my childhood memories live on.

Coincidentally, that same day, the news reported that the Constitutional Court’s ruling on the impeachment of President Yoon Suk Yeol was scheduled for April 4. The convergence of Cheongmyeong—a solar term signifying clarity and renewal—and a major political reckoning felt more than accidental. It prompted me to reflect on what Cheongmyeong truly means.

Cheongmyeong is one of the 24 traditional solar terms, signifying a time when spring ripens and the sky grows clear. In Korea’s agrarian past, it marked the beginning of the farming season. It was a time to till the soil, plant seeds, and visit ancestral graves—honoring the past while preparing for the future. For both nature and humanity, Cheongmyeong represents a new beginning.

On this very day of Cheongmyeong, Korea arrived at a turning point. President Yoon was removed from office. This was not merely the downfall of a leader, but a formal recognition of the public’s judgment against arrogance and disconnection from the people. The symbolism of a clear sky returning—Cheongmyeong—resonated deeply with the weight of that moment. It was hard to see it as a mere coincidence.

In China, Cheongmyeong is also a day for remembering the dead—Qingming Festival. It is a time when families tend to ancestral graves and reflect on virtue and duty, inspired by the story of Jie Zitui, a loyal subject who perished in fire. Cheongmyeong is a day of remembrance and moral clarity. For us today, too, it is a call to revisit a time when reason and justice were clouded, and to renew our yearning for transparency and integrity in public life.

But Cheongmyeong is not only about looking back. It is also a time for planting seeds. The voices of countless citizens who refused to remain silent grew into a great wind, strong enough to lift the curtain of power. Beneath this now-cleared sky, we must sow seeds of a better society.

Jeonbuk’s education is now at a crossroads, searching once again for the right ground in which to plant its seeds. The current superintendent has received a ruling in the appeals court that could result in removal from office, and as the case awaits the Supreme Court’s final decision, uncertainty and tension are spreading across the educational field. Trust in Jeonbuk’s education has collapsed, with mutual suspicion growing to the point where the idea of an 'educational family' feels almost meaningless. Yet even in this difficult time, we must not let go of hope—just as Cheongmyeong, the season of clear skies, reminds us. Restoring broken trust and placing children once again at the center of education—this is the seed we must now sow.

The sky has turned clear. But that clarity did not arrive on its own. It is the fruit of struggle, perseverance, and the unyielding faith of many. Let us not forget what this Cheongmyeong signifies. May this day, when the haze was lifted and the light returned, mark the beginning of a renewed democracy. May the darkness over Jeonbuk’s education lift, and under clear skies, may new hope begin to bloom.