Last Day of School: 2013 Retrospection

On the last day of school, I am sitting at my desk, drinking Korean instant coffee and reading news stories and my friends' blogs. Students are running around the halls outside, screaming and yelling their goodbyes at each other. In a few minutes, the closing ceremony will be held, and winter vacation will begin.

First stop is a buffet lunch downtown with the school faculty, and then I'm off to visit a friends in Iksan and Seoul. When I return from my first solo trip out of town in six weeks (I haven't seen any of my Fulbright friends in person since our Thanksgiving dinner), a stack of books several feet high will be waiting for me! So will my last two graduate school applications, preliminary planning for my spring semester research project, and, hopefully, seasons four through six of Parks and Recreation.

While I'm looking forward to staying busy and productive over the break, it's been oddly peaceful at school this past week. Actually, all of December was kind of a breeze. I've spent this month administering speaking tests, throwing class parties, and deskwarming; during final exams last week, I chilled in my office planning my vacation travels. Since Monday, I have prepared for six classes but only seen two (and one of them was a movie party) due to scheduling changes, Christmas, and the school festival throwing everything into chaos. Chaos for the administration, I mean. For me, it just means a lot of down time.

I've spent some of that time comparing where I am now to where I was one year ago. In 2012, went home for Christmas and didn't attend the school festival. The apocalypse came and went; I did not have any concrete plans for the future; my grandfather was alive and kicking. This year, I attended my grandfather's funeral. I have spent the past two months applying to grad school (and the past six worrying about it). The Earth continued to revolve around the sun even as disaster, tragedy, and war deepened its fissures. And I now have over one full year of teaching experience at Changwon Science High School. 117 students I have taught for three semesters will graduate and go to college next March; 82 new freshmen will arrive to take their place.

It only took me a few months last autumn to fall in love with my school and my students. So, one year later, I have a richer understanding of gratitude toward this small community. Of course, this understanding comes hand-in-hand with the end of the honeymoon period. There have been times when I've witnessed firsthand how ridiculous school politics can be, seen the stress of an intense and merciless curriculum take its toll on these teenagers, been hurt by linguistic and cultural misunderstandings.

But, when all is said and done, I have had an eye-opening and life-fulfilling experience here. At this moment in my life, there is nothing I would rather be doing. Yesterday's school festival was one example of the small joys that make being here worthwhile, even worth missing Christmas with my family. I'll write about it in more detail later, but suffice it to say that I'm happy in the here and now. I welcome winter vacation with as much gusto as the next teacher; however, for reasons including but not limited to I'm tired of cold weather already, next March couldn't come sooner!

An Unexpected Homecoming

I'm home. I'm in California, and I'm sitting on my bed next to my stuffed animals and an emptied suitcase, and it feels very odd.

Only one month into my second year teaching, I couldn't have predicted this little break coming so soon. One sunny Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago, I was just beginning plans for winter holiday travel when my brother called and broke the news to me: A-kong, my grandfather, had passed away.

It was expected for me to attend the funeral. All nine of my grandfather's grandchildren had to come back from the far corners of the country (and the world, in my case). So, I asked for some time off from my school, booked the cheapest ticket I could find, and rearranged my plans to make room for an emergency trip home.

One thing I'm really thankful for and impressed by is the outpouring of sympathy from the Koreans in my circles. I wasn't planning on telling too many people what my plans were for the weekend, but obviously, I had to inform my co-teachers, since they have to cover seven classes for me. I also told my taekgyeon master and fellow trainees, and the night before I left, I paid a visit to my host parents from last year and broke the news to them, as well. The response was touching. My host parents asked me again and again if I was okay and if my family was holding together. My taekgyeon master gave me a gift of rice wine to take home to my parents. My co-teachers even collected some money for my family. It's a tradition to collect some funds for a 유족 (grieving family) to help cover funeral costs; there's even a special envelope you can buy for this very purpose. Although I don't think my family really needs the money they gave, it was such a strong manifestation of their kindness -- the same selflessness and helpfulness they have shown to me all year, which I have learned is called 정, that I was momentarily speechless when they gave it to me. I don't think I could bow low enough to show my gratitude!

Now that I'm actually home, though, everything feels kind of strange. I could attribute the feeling to 시차 (jetlag), but really, a part of me keeps telling me, "You're not supposed to be here right now. You should be teaching! You're supposed to be in Korea; why are you in California?" Obviously, this voice is delusional. What's most important right now is my family and the support I can give them for these five short days. I'm especially worried about my A-ma, whom I visited as soon as I got home. As far back as I can remember, I have never seen her cry, so I was shocked to see that she was sobbing when she opened the door to greet me this morning. It was partly joy to see me (despite having come from the farthest away, I was one of the first of the nine back for the weekend) and partly her utter sorrow that A-kong couldn't also be there to say hi to his youngest grandchild.

My last words to my grandfather, spoken before I left for Korea one month ago, were that I would see him again at Christmastime. I guess I got the timing wrong.

When most of the family gathered tonight for dinner and rehearsal for some of the songs we will sing at tomorrow's memorial service, I knew then that I was indeed in the right place. And at the right time. I will probably feel odd all weekend -- after all, death, though as common to the human experience as life, is never an easy thing to face for the first time -- but I know that everything will be okay. My family and I trust in God, who leads us into tough times and then back out of them, stronger or wiser or closer than ever before.

阿公, 我想你! 在主耶穌的懷裡安息.