Memories

I forget things easily, and I'm sad to admit it. The other day I was browsing my Facebook news feed when I saw that one of my former students had changed his cover photo to a cute picture of his entire class. I smiled when I saw the picture, then clicked on it to take a closer look. I saw three rows of familiar faces smiling for the camera, hands in the familiar "V"-sign I'd even begun to use after living in Korea for two years.

Nobody was tagged in the photo yet, so I tried to remember the names of the students in that particular homeroom class. And that's when I realized that I couldn't. Many names came back to me easily, but others escaped me completely. I had iterations of various Korean names floating around in my head, but I couldn't attach them to faces. I almost panicked because it dawned on me that my attachment to Korea has already begun to weaken and fade. I've been home for almost two months, haven't seen my students in nearly three, and despite all the messages I send on Facebook or the photos and status updates they post every day, I am beginning to forget who they are.

On one hand, this is only natural. We can pour our hearts out onto people and connect in life-changing ways, but when it's time to move on, the old links break while new ones form; the empty jar gets filled with other people. Social media and other forms of technology can only sustain it for so long. Maybe we just wern't meant to keep in touch with everyone forever.

Which do I fear more, forgetting or being forgotten? I hope that I left a lasting legacy on my students, at my school. But I know full well that I will eventually become nothing more than a memory, maybe also a photo. Courtney, who is now teaching at my school, has been doing an amazing job with my old students, as far as I can tell. And I'm happy about it. If they have so much fun in her class that they forget all the (boring) things that I ever taught them, I'll have peace of mind. But the jealous litle devil in me also wants them to miss me. To think, "I wish Andrew Teacher were still around," even though it's just a pipe dream.

Well, Courtney messaged me the other day with a photo she took of a second-year student's journal entry. And when I read what JH had written, I felt all warm inside. It really made my day.

"Since I have lived quiet good life, I have a lot of great memories. First, it is meeting teacher Andrew in CSHS. Andrew teacher is the most intelligent and kind teacher who I have ever met include Korean and foreigns. He always cheer us and keep us think optimistically. After I graduate BS in university, I'm going to meet him in US."

If you look carefully, you'll see that JH's second great memory is meeting Courtney at CSHS. I'm just so thrilled that English educators are making an impact on this young person's life. Maybe five or ten years down the road, he won't remember much of anything about either of us. (And maybe five or ten days for now I'll have forgotten what he looks like again.) But at least for now, we can know that we've done some good.

- - -

On another note, I will be closing this blog at the end of September. This is probably going to be my last post. There are some other things I've had sitting around in my drafts for a while, but it's unlikely that I'll ever get to them. If something does come up in my future that brings me back to Korea, then I see no reason why I wouldn't write again. But in the meantime, I'm starting up a new blog, this time on WordPress, that will document my adventures in graduate school. You can find it here.

I have loved writing and photographing my time in Korea, and I thank all my readers for having joined me at one time or another. If you were a friend from home, or the random parents of friends, or a complete stranger who stumbled across this by accident, thank you all the same! I hope you learned a thing or two and were inspired, possibly, to think or write or create in some way for yourself.

안녕히계세요. Peace.

Disce aut discede

I'm a little bit sad because I found out recently that two of my second-year students have left our school. One decided to take a year-long leave of absence, and the other dropped out entirely. According to my co-teachers, the academic pressure was too difficult for them to handle.

I wondered for a moment if there had been anything I could have done to prevent these two students from giving up. There were, of course, warning signs. The student who dropped out (henceforth S1) had always seemed overwhelmed by everything. Both of them had underperformed consistently for three semesters, and the student who took the leave of absence (S2) was clearly depressed. In his very first journal entry, he wrote that he hated this school. If I'd taken these things more seriously and spoken up, could I have kept them here?

Let's be real, though: it takes a brave student to recognize that he's not a good fit for the two-year academic boot camp that is our school. While they certainly could have used more support and encouragement, ultimately I think it's better that they knew their limits and got out before they stretched themselves beyond their ability. I'm not disappointed; I'm relieved on their behalf.

I'm also somewhat irked that I didn't learn about the situation until now. S1 hadn't come to class in about three weeks before I learned why he was gone. Actually, in his first week of absence, S2 wrote in his journal that he was worried about his classmate, S1. I wrote back, asking what the matter was and offering my well-wishes. But S2 never got that feedback, because he didn't show up to class for the following two weeks.

So this week, I asked one of my co-teachers if she knew where S1 was; I wondered aloud if he was perhaps sick. My co-teacher hesitated and then put on her quiet, serious tone. "Well, the truth is that S1 is preparing to leave the school." I was taken aback. But then another teacher overheard and chimed in: "Preparing? No, I think he has already left. He left a few weeks ago."

Three weeks, to be precise, yet nobody bothered to tell me! And nobody told my co-teacher, either. She knew his situation, but the details were hushed up. The reality is, she told me, that people tend to keep very quiet about sensitive matters like students leaving school. We don't want to risk losing face. Typical Korean channels of communication: as blocked as the roads leading into Seoul during rush hour.

I wish that I'd had the opportunity to say goodbye to my two students. I'd give them back their journals and tell them to keep writing in them, even though they won't be in my class anymore. I hope that they will rest up well in their time off and, when they're ready to study again, come back to the game even stronger than before.

I(Q)

Some of people olny judge me by my IQ or abillity. I hate that point of view, but people usually do that. I have an over average IQ. If some people know that my IQ, They remember me that "He have very high IQ" and they forget about who I am.

- excerpt from a student's journal entry today

See the Nebula

My name is KDH. I like many things, especialy food. I really like eating, but my weight is not increase. Reading books is fun, too. Also I like to see the star. Exactely, not star because see the nebula is more fun.
- Excerpt from a student journal

It was 9pm and everything was dark. A single candle lit the room, revealing more shadows than light. It was only 9pm, but the darkness and warmth covered me like a blanket, and my body told me it was time to sleep.

"Wait, first I want to show you something," he said. "Let's go outside."

I wedged my feet into my shoes and shuffled out the door. It was even darker with the trees of the jungle surrounding us in every direction save one: when I looked up I gasped. Stars. Innumerable stars, twinkling against the deepest night sky. A silver shimmer of the Milky Way. I found Orion and saw his scabbard glow, but I could not find the Pleiades, seven bright sisters lost amongst a crowd of billions.

"I bet you've never seen anything like this in Korea," he said.

The Smile Bank

And the award for the cutest thing a student has written in their journal all week goes to...

"My friends make me happy, because they are my smile bank."

That was in response to the prompt, "What makes you happy?" I think having my students write weekly journals was one of the best ideas I incorporated into my classes this semester. Some of them have very clearly improved their writing skills even though they only worked at it for five-ish minutes a week. Since I read all 120 journals and correct them, their writing is also a good way for me to evaluate what they're learning and for them to communicate with me.

The last journal question I asked my second-years this semester was simply, "What have you learned in my class this year?" Here's one response that stuck out in particular:

"I have been learned many things from you. How to read and write sentences, many interesting subjects, … etc. Especially, this journal makes me have bravement. When I wrote journal first, it was too hard. But constantly I was writing. Finally I can write english sentences easily before than last day. English time with you was so helpful to me. Thanks."

Cue positive feelings of purpose and fulfillment!

Oh, on a different note, here's a pro tip for high school teachers abroad: a great way to connect with your students is to show them your own high school yearbook. MSJ Costanoan '08, represent! I brought Inspired back to Korea with me last winter, and my students fawn over it. Yesterday, YJ and MW, two of my third-years, skipped out on self-study period and hung out in my office for over an hour, engrossed in the 졸업앨범 ("graduation album"). I sat next to them, correcting journals and chatting with them on a huge spectrum of topics, each one sparked by interesting photos that they saw.

On a student life page: "Oh, she is dressed up as a Starbucks."
On an article about a party: "Are they a couple? Are they dancing? Wow, her dress!"
On an article about a school play: "오만과 편견!!! Bingley!"
On the gymnastics page: "Teacher, are these students professional?"
On a clubs page: "Gay... Straight... Alliance? Teacher, do you support them?"
On the Senior Superlatives: "Are these all couples? What is 'Future Dictator'?"
On the people pages: "Chen Chen Chen Chen Chen Chen Cheng Chi Chi Chiu..."

And every time they found a picture of me, it was as if they'd discovered treasure. MW commented that I looked more mature now than five and a half years ago. YJ squealed when she found my baby picture. (She was also excited by our football team, our cheerleaders, and basically the entire book.)

I was delighted to spend that bit of quality time with my students. For them, it was solid language practice and a jackpot of cross-cultural exposure in a casual setting. Also, they taught me Busan-flavor Korean slang (including 까리 and 간지, which were used to describe female water polo players, the models for our charity fashion show, and every attractive guy they saw). A simple yearbook provides almost limitless possibilities for building positive relationships. I think I'm just going to leave mine open on my desk from now on.