So as the CLEA month-long Korean class comes to an end I will come back to my home stay with a shiny new diploma displaying the 87% I earned in the course as well as a new found passion for the Korean language. During our closing remarks, Mrs. Shim said something surprising. When telling us about the Jeju conference that will happen in precisely one month she advised that we do not get too excited and instead start realizing that this will be our last workshop and soon after our year here will come to a close. It is kind of like looking at the year as half over rather than half a year more to go.
A similar chord was struck as I gchatted with my brother and he bade me goodnight with the words "Live long and prosper" made famous by Mr.Spock and re-iterated by my father on his work answering machine. Daily. Yes, my dad is that cool. It should be clear by my numerous star trek related posts that the series played a vital part in my upbringing. My dad continues to update his work phone each day with the date and the words "live long and prosper" so if you were to call him tomorrow you would hear "Today is March 1st, 2011, I am away from my desk please leave your name and number and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you. Live long and prosper" stated clearly with a peppering of Ukrainian accent for flavor. What I didn't realize until my brother mockingly added that sentence to his parting words this evening is that I haven't heard my dad's voice say that message in over 6 months. That's half a year of a daily routine that I have had no part in. This made me think...what else have I been missing over the last 6 month, what daily routines have gone for granted in my absence?
1. My dad's work answering machine- thought I know it is coming the infamous Spock line makes me smile every time
2. My dad yelling "Hey lady, come on!" at any car that is going too slow
3. Limes squeezed into orange juice in the morning
4. Being able to call my mom when I am in the department store and ask her opinion on clothes
5. Reading the ingredients list on any food item I am contemplating purchasing
6. Starting a car and driving a stickshift
7. Being able to go into a store and know that at least 90% of the clothes will either fit or be too big for me instead of shopping around for the 10% of items that are not too small for me
8. Being 24 not 26 (my korean age)
9. Dairy being a food group and not a imported luxury good
That is all I can think of for now. I am not homesick. But I do wish I could have a recording of my dad saying "Live long and prosper" at my disposal if that day every does come. :)
Monday, February 28, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Monopoly-Game Theory.
I had a Korean test today. As a testament to what I have learned over the past week and a half in comparison to what I had compressed into my brain whenever tests were given out during Orientation I think today went much MUCH better. Though my grade is probably floating around a 70% I am happy I was able to at least understand what all of the questions were asking me to do.
After we took the test we played Monopoly. I actually hated this game as a child. It takes too long, the rules are abundant and complicated and in the end whoever is losing ends up being a sourpuss. No one likes to lose so the fact that human beings willing subject themselves to these types of games in the first place allows for only three rational explanations:
1. we are bored to tears. (there is a reason that monopoly rose to popularity during the depression- no one else had anything better to do)
2. we are masochistic
3. we just finished a midterm in Korean class and have 3 hours before we can leave
I said earlier that no one likes to lose, though there are those who do not even like to play. Competition, in the most Darwin sense, is the key to survival. So those who claim to have no sportsmanlike spirit would have probably vanished before passing on "I don't care" genes to their equally uninspired offspring. So, this day in age, where does this lackadaisical attitude for games come from? When did people stop caring about winning?
I understand the importance of parents teaching their children how to play nicely with others. But playing IS part of the equation. Saying "it's just a game" is supposed to relieve the pressure and make losing less of a heartbreak rather than completely eradicate the point of competition.
For me how you play a game is quite parallel of how you approach life. If given a task to perform you must try your best to complete it with 100% accuracy. No cheating, but also, no slacking. Rules are guidelines that allow us all equal footing. Manipulating them to an advantage is stepping outside the boundaries of healthy competition. The same sentiment is shared when people refuse to compete or try their best. I for one would not be good at picking and choosing the instances when I was going to put my full effort forth and when I would just do things half-assed. It is easier, more efficient and just makes sense to always maintain a steady standard of full effort.
I have been taught that there is no prize in winning an unfair fight. I realized today that sportsmanship also goes hand in hand with putting forth a competitive spirit and is not satisfied with a high five at the end of a game.
I am thankful that I can enjoy a game with a balanced drive for winning as well as a realization that it is indeed...just a game.
After we took the test we played Monopoly. I actually hated this game as a child. It takes too long, the rules are abundant and complicated and in the end whoever is losing ends up being a sourpuss. No one likes to lose so the fact that human beings willing subject themselves to these types of games in the first place allows for only three rational explanations:
1. we are bored to tears. (there is a reason that monopoly rose to popularity during the depression- no one else had anything better to do)
2. we are masochistic
3. we just finished a midterm in Korean class and have 3 hours before we can leave
I said earlier that no one likes to lose, though there are those who do not even like to play. Competition, in the most Darwin sense, is the key to survival. So those who claim to have no sportsmanlike spirit would have probably vanished before passing on "I don't care" genes to their equally uninspired offspring. So, this day in age, where does this lackadaisical attitude for games come from? When did people stop caring about winning?
I understand the importance of parents teaching their children how to play nicely with others. But playing IS part of the equation. Saying "it's just a game" is supposed to relieve the pressure and make losing less of a heartbreak rather than completely eradicate the point of competition.
For me how you play a game is quite parallel of how you approach life. If given a task to perform you must try your best to complete it with 100% accuracy. No cheating, but also, no slacking. Rules are guidelines that allow us all equal footing. Manipulating them to an advantage is stepping outside the boundaries of healthy competition. The same sentiment is shared when people refuse to compete or try their best. I for one would not be good at picking and choosing the instances when I was going to put my full effort forth and when I would just do things half-assed. It is easier, more efficient and just makes sense to always maintain a steady standard of full effort.
I have been taught that there is no prize in winning an unfair fight. I realized today that sportsmanship also goes hand in hand with putting forth a competitive spirit and is not satisfied with a high five at the end of a game.
I am thankful that I can enjoy a game with a balanced drive for winning as well as a realization that it is indeed...just a game.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Happy New Year! here's to you rabbit.
I'm packing. Again. The constant packing, unpacking, repacking of my bags seems like a lifestyle now. I have been teaching high school English camps in 정읍 for the past two weekends and with a trip to Seoul thrown in the mix I have hardly been home longer than I needed to restock my bags with fresh clothes and play a game of UNO with my host family.
A reflection on the camps: Cooperative and project based learning is a skill that is innate and Korean school children would benefit from more creative ways to engage themselves in the study of English language. Engaging themselves, a possible synonym for "self-study" is an art form that they are still trying to master and if (err...I mean "once") they do Korea will be a big time player in the world. They need to hone their treacherous work ethic and expand it outside the confines of route memorization to create and manipulate ideas. If only there was a hagwan for imagination. Maybe in my naïve and nervous state as a first time teacher I picked 4th graders as my favorite but through experience I now believe that “the older the better.” I also no longer experience the butterflies and worry that consumed me as a first year teacher. Looking back on those rough weeks and months of my first semester as a teacher at Bici I remember how my insides churned at the thought of the problem students walking into class, how I despised lesson planning and seeking useful data for my students and how eagerly we all rushed out of the building on Friday afternoons to purge our memories of the past week with alcohol.
The story is so different on this side of the globe. I am eager to teach my lessons, I adore students and nothing that happens in the classroom has the potential to jeopardize my bowl movements. In simpler terms- teaching is a joy. In other words- I miss that feeling of panic. For some reason it has been instilled in my head that if my day to day tasks do not put on pressure, kick me out of my comfort zone and make me scramble a bit, I am not doing my best. This idea is simply illustrated in the case of the high school student in the English camp I taught two weekends ago who was sitting around while his partner was doing most of the work. After a round of gentle coaxing did not convince him that he should do his fare share I more strongly ENCOURAGED him to complete an entire portion by himself. Sure enough an hour later he had done a beautiful job on a poster but still held a grudge against me for another hour because I had pushed him off his butt to put forth effort and do some work. Maybe what I need is a bitchy Ms.Lenets to stroll up to me, tell me my life is too easy and put in front of me an ultimatum- I better get some serious work done or ELSE. The question now is, what on earth am I to do?
My first intention is to apply for a job in the Fulbright office. When I first heard of the possible job openings in the office I gasped “wow- I could NEVER be Mrs. Shim’s assistant” within a split second I answered myself “WAIT, why not?” I would never allow for myself to be written off this way by anyone else so I certainly wasn’t going to stand for my own brain thinking less of my abilities. I knew why I was thinking it too, the job would be more difficult, the hours longer and the vacation cut to a fraction what I enjoy now. Also, entering Fulbright with an arsenal of teaching experience gave me a lot of confidence which is actually the most important aspect of teaching—so entering a new arena with a new set of skills would be difficult. But that’s exactly what I crave.
My next few weeks will not be challenge free either. I am going to Jungwon again- returning to the marble palace to attain more Korean knowledge and interact with friends from the university. And practice for a marathon! Oh life, you just keep getting better.
A reflection on the camps: Cooperative and project based learning is a skill that is innate and Korean school children would benefit from more creative ways to engage themselves in the study of English language. Engaging themselves, a possible synonym for "self-study" is an art form that they are still trying to master and if (err...I mean "once") they do Korea will be a big time player in the world. They need to hone their treacherous work ethic and expand it outside the confines of route memorization to create and manipulate ideas. If only there was a hagwan for imagination. Maybe in my naïve and nervous state as a first time teacher I picked 4th graders as my favorite but through experience I now believe that “the older the better.” I also no longer experience the butterflies and worry that consumed me as a first year teacher. Looking back on those rough weeks and months of my first semester as a teacher at Bici I remember how my insides churned at the thought of the problem students walking into class, how I despised lesson planning and seeking useful data for my students and how eagerly we all rushed out of the building on Friday afternoons to purge our memories of the past week with alcohol.
The story is so different on this side of the globe. I am eager to teach my lessons, I adore students and nothing that happens in the classroom has the potential to jeopardize my bowl movements. In simpler terms- teaching is a joy. In other words- I miss that feeling of panic. For some reason it has been instilled in my head that if my day to day tasks do not put on pressure, kick me out of my comfort zone and make me scramble a bit, I am not doing my best. This idea is simply illustrated in the case of the high school student in the English camp I taught two weekends ago who was sitting around while his partner was doing most of the work. After a round of gentle coaxing did not convince him that he should do his fare share I more strongly ENCOURAGED him to complete an entire portion by himself. Sure enough an hour later he had done a beautiful job on a poster but still held a grudge against me for another hour because I had pushed him off his butt to put forth effort and do some work. Maybe what I need is a bitchy Ms.Lenets to stroll up to me, tell me my life is too easy and put in front of me an ultimatum- I better get some serious work done or ELSE. The question now is, what on earth am I to do?
My first intention is to apply for a job in the Fulbright office. When I first heard of the possible job openings in the office I gasped “wow- I could NEVER be Mrs. Shim’s assistant” within a split second I answered myself “WAIT, why not?” I would never allow for myself to be written off this way by anyone else so I certainly wasn’t going to stand for my own brain thinking less of my abilities. I knew why I was thinking it too, the job would be more difficult, the hours longer and the vacation cut to a fraction what I enjoy now. Also, entering Fulbright with an arsenal of teaching experience gave me a lot of confidence which is actually the most important aspect of teaching—so entering a new arena with a new set of skills would be difficult. But that’s exactly what I crave.
My next few weeks will not be challenge free either. I am going to Jungwon again- returning to the marble palace to attain more Korean knowledge and interact with friends from the university. And practice for a marathon! Oh life, you just keep getting better.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Home Sweet Home: Round Two
In the midst of uploading vacation pictures to facebook, downloading modern family episodes and taping hanji paper to my wall I have to take a little break and blog.
My surroundings have changes so much and so many times in the past month. I have trekked through Vietnam, soaked up the sun while viewing Wats in Thailand and experienced the beautiful oddness that is Kuala Lumpur. Then, I took over my co-teachers room and hung out with her adorable family. Eating, drinking and sleeping the days away. Now I have finally arrived at my new homestay.
From the get-go I think this is a better fit. As odd as it may sound I loved that they want me to do my own laundry and they have a schedule up on the board where I can write out my schedule for the week. The dad speaks English and wants to play card games after dinner. The mom wants me to show her how to cook asparagus and beans. THE DAUGHTER STAYS OUT OF MY ROOM. Ahh...
Though I am far from a final analysis on my host family I can certainly say that I appreciate the calmness and subtle curiosity with which they approach me. I appreciate being treated like an adult and not a play thing. I think it is sure sign that my room does not have a lock on it because I will not have to use it in order to attain sanity.
My closet is a mess but that can wait until tomorrow. Many things can wait...goodnight.
My surroundings have changes so much and so many times in the past month. I have trekked through Vietnam, soaked up the sun while viewing Wats in Thailand and experienced the beautiful oddness that is Kuala Lumpur. Then, I took over my co-teachers room and hung out with her adorable family. Eating, drinking and sleeping the days away. Now I have finally arrived at my new homestay.
From the get-go I think this is a better fit. As odd as it may sound I loved that they want me to do my own laundry and they have a schedule up on the board where I can write out my schedule for the week. The dad speaks English and wants to play card games after dinner. The mom wants me to show her how to cook asparagus and beans. THE DAUGHTER STAYS OUT OF MY ROOM. Ahh...
Though I am far from a final analysis on my host family I can certainly say that I appreciate the calmness and subtle curiosity with which they approach me. I appreciate being treated like an adult and not a play thing. I think it is sure sign that my room does not have a lock on it because I will not have to use it in order to attain sanity.
My closet is a mess but that can wait until tomorrow. Many things can wait...goodnight.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
WWTD?
Do you remember the WWJD craze? Everyone would wear a bracelet in a variety of bright hues that had WWJD etched in, reminding them to think through their choices and rationalize their decisions based on what Jesus would do?
I too look to a higher power when making hard decisions about life. Though my idol is a far cry from a religious figure he is now in his 50s and still rocking a six pack. The rational and level headedness with which my shepherd guides his tiny flock is the reason why his few followers are so devout. From an early age I have been conditioned to follow a thought process that mirrors one of my father, who happens to be the greatest man to have actually walked the earth.
SO what would Tato do? I think that question should be rephrased to – What has he already done?
My dad has many accomplishments that others would drool over and aspire to write on their resume. Though I mostly know about his “office” through yearly “take your daughter to work” days I know that his job is one that requires a lot of intellect (read: PhD) and reasoning power(read and cringe: math), and comes with the title of “Crack Analysis Specialist”. The man also works out during his lunch break after eating the lunch that my mom has been packing him for the past 20 years.
Outside of work he is also always busy with handyman projects and hobbies. Building a bed or installing marble counter tops is his idea of fun on a Saturday afternoon. Cooking has also become an increased interest to the delight of the taste buds and noses of the entire neighborhood. I think renaissance man would be the appropriate term to describe him.
I may have overlooked the minor fact, a tiny milestone in my development, that he had a huge role in undertaking—moving our family from Ukraine. A bold move that I believe, no…I know, changed the trajectory of my opportunities and pretty much redefined my existence in this world.
Bold move indeed. But it was not the first nor last. One thing that inspires while simultaneously scares me about my father is that he is able to take risks. Massive, bold and high stakes where there is a likelihood of massive failure. I remember as a young girl sitting on the couch and thinking why he bothered to do those things, why he wasn’t happy just living the life at a neutral pace. I think I even asked him how he could keep steady nerves while taking such large gambles. His reply was way over my head at that point but I think I somewhat understand it now… “so if I don’t then what…then I am just sitting and waiting and I will think back about what I could have done, at least this way I can think about how I tried”
Recently, I was reminded of my youthful thoughts when writing a letter asking to change my home stay. I had realized that I had been a person who makes the best of things within the confines of their situation, accepting things as they are and just working towards happiness inside the box. It wasn’t until that letter that I joined my father outside of the box, instead of making the situation work I was now the person who changes the situation completely. It felt strange yet very empowering.
I am thankful, grateful and forever in debt to him for his checkmate choices, using everything in his arsenal to play the game and secure the king. A parallel emotion that accompanies those kindhearted feelings is a hunger to have my own stab at it.
It meaning LIFE.
The most memorable words from my father are as follows “It is the children’s job to be better than the parents” this simple phrase has been the fuel behind my fire ever since it escaped from his lips. When I think about the opportunities he has given me; the priceless gifts of education, travel and understanding of multiple cultures I am sometimes left scratching my head about how I can actually surpass his accomplishments.
As a youngster I heard him tell stories of punching buckets of sand to work up calices on his hands so he could break boards in Karate. Then I became a black belt and state champ myself. I marveled at how he learned languages like Polish by simply reading books and I feel like I will never stop trying to speak in tongues or trying to keep the old ones afloat in my head. I watched him coach my brother’s roller hockey team and then felt the joys of coaching (and domination) myself as I lead my crazy 5th and 6th graders to the Championship softball game. His PhD is currently matched only by my masters but I am in no way done adding letters to my name. Because he made me run barefoot very damn morning of my elementary years I now make a conscious choice to work out and run to stay fit.
There are probably many more examples of what I have seen him do and then attempted to mimic in my own way. One thing that I will never be able to recreate, no matter how hard I work is a certain look that my father has. It is a distinguishing feature much like his height or his calf muscles or overly exposed abdomen that have been burned into my memory banks. However, unlike the characteristic I just mentioned it is not useful for spotting him from afar at the mall but it is a physical feature that for me defines who he is. My dad has a way of smiling with only his eyes that is the single most rewarding expression I have experienced. It is hard to describe because it is as simple and subtle as it is frequent. Little wrinkles- crows feet-erosions of the face appear around the eyes and they tell me that he knows more than he is letting on. I can’t help but smile when I see his eyes posed in that position as he holds back all other emotion from his face.
So what would Tato do? He would smile with his eyes and pick the next activity to master. Thus I must too trudge on and tackle increasing challenges until I have my own offspring to set an incredibly high bar for and smile with my eyes wishing them success.
I too look to a higher power when making hard decisions about life. Though my idol is a far cry from a religious figure he is now in his 50s and still rocking a six pack. The rational and level headedness with which my shepherd guides his tiny flock is the reason why his few followers are so devout. From an early age I have been conditioned to follow a thought process that mirrors one of my father, who happens to be the greatest man to have actually walked the earth.
SO what would Tato do? I think that question should be rephrased to – What has he already done?
My dad has many accomplishments that others would drool over and aspire to write on their resume. Though I mostly know about his “office” through yearly “take your daughter to work” days I know that his job is one that requires a lot of intellect (read: PhD) and reasoning power(read and cringe: math), and comes with the title of “Crack Analysis Specialist”. The man also works out during his lunch break after eating the lunch that my mom has been packing him for the past 20 years.
Outside of work he is also always busy with handyman projects and hobbies. Building a bed or installing marble counter tops is his idea of fun on a Saturday afternoon. Cooking has also become an increased interest to the delight of the taste buds and noses of the entire neighborhood. I think renaissance man would be the appropriate term to describe him.
I may have overlooked the minor fact, a tiny milestone in my development, that he had a huge role in undertaking—moving our family from Ukraine. A bold move that I believe, no…I know, changed the trajectory of my opportunities and pretty much redefined my existence in this world.
Bold move indeed. But it was not the first nor last. One thing that inspires while simultaneously scares me about my father is that he is able to take risks. Massive, bold and high stakes where there is a likelihood of massive failure. I remember as a young girl sitting on the couch and thinking why he bothered to do those things, why he wasn’t happy just living the life at a neutral pace. I think I even asked him how he could keep steady nerves while taking such large gambles. His reply was way over my head at that point but I think I somewhat understand it now… “so if I don’t then what…then I am just sitting and waiting and I will think back about what I could have done, at least this way I can think about how I tried”
Recently, I was reminded of my youthful thoughts when writing a letter asking to change my home stay. I had realized that I had been a person who makes the best of things within the confines of their situation, accepting things as they are and just working towards happiness inside the box. It wasn’t until that letter that I joined my father outside of the box, instead of making the situation work I was now the person who changes the situation completely. It felt strange yet very empowering.
I am thankful, grateful and forever in debt to him for his checkmate choices, using everything in his arsenal to play the game and secure the king. A parallel emotion that accompanies those kindhearted feelings is a hunger to have my own stab at it.
It meaning LIFE.
The most memorable words from my father are as follows “It is the children’s job to be better than the parents” this simple phrase has been the fuel behind my fire ever since it escaped from his lips. When I think about the opportunities he has given me; the priceless gifts of education, travel and understanding of multiple cultures I am sometimes left scratching my head about how I can actually surpass his accomplishments.
As a youngster I heard him tell stories of punching buckets of sand to work up calices on his hands so he could break boards in Karate. Then I became a black belt and state champ myself. I marveled at how he learned languages like Polish by simply reading books and I feel like I will never stop trying to speak in tongues or trying to keep the old ones afloat in my head. I watched him coach my brother’s roller hockey team and then felt the joys of coaching (and domination) myself as I lead my crazy 5th and 6th graders to the Championship softball game. His PhD is currently matched only by my masters but I am in no way done adding letters to my name. Because he made me run barefoot very damn morning of my elementary years I now make a conscious choice to work out and run to stay fit.
There are probably many more examples of what I have seen him do and then attempted to mimic in my own way. One thing that I will never be able to recreate, no matter how hard I work is a certain look that my father has. It is a distinguishing feature much like his height or his calf muscles or overly exposed abdomen that have been burned into my memory banks. However, unlike the characteristic I just mentioned it is not useful for spotting him from afar at the mall but it is a physical feature that for me defines who he is. My dad has a way of smiling with only his eyes that is the single most rewarding expression I have experienced. It is hard to describe because it is as simple and subtle as it is frequent. Little wrinkles- crows feet-erosions of the face appear around the eyes and they tell me that he knows more than he is letting on. I can’t help but smile when I see his eyes posed in that position as he holds back all other emotion from his face.
So what would Tato do? He would smile with his eyes and pick the next activity to master. Thus I must too trudge on and tackle increasing challenges until I have my own offspring to set an incredibly high bar for and smile with my eyes wishing them success.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
I can't function in this cold.
TODAY IS SO COLD.
Last night I went to an interesting and highly entertaining drum show (Korea's 4th national treasure- a drummer man, was performing) followed by a delightful evening filled with delicious food (italian- a place called napoli with a chef from napoli) making some new Chinese friends and befriending the wife of Matt Miller's principal. The atmosphere was splendid and I was so happy to be in great company and share interesting conversations as well as perform an awkward yet video taped version of "The itsy bitsy spider" for the entire crowd. I want more evenings like that. Very classy.
Also, it is bitter cold. My jacket is stabbed through multiple times by the jaws of winter as the needle wind takes illegal jabs at my face. Make it stop. Vietnam is supposed to be in the 30 degrees which is better than my 1 degree here in DAEGU.
I have devoured an entire bag of cheerios cereal in three sittings.
My love for TV has resurfaced and I watched 10 episodes of Modern Family in one afternoon (this storyline parallels the one of my cheerio eating fests)
I still have to purchase a flight from vietnam to thailand and pack.
IT IS SO FRIGIDLY UNBEARABLY COLD THAT I WILL DIE if I don't hide under my blankets and cling to my heated mattress from the time I get home from school until I have to wake up the next morning. That is what ARizona weather has done to me. It has made me soft.
Last night I went to an interesting and highly entertaining drum show (Korea's 4th national treasure- a drummer man, was performing) followed by a delightful evening filled with delicious food (italian- a place called napoli with a chef from napoli) making some new Chinese friends and befriending the wife of Matt Miller's principal. The atmosphere was splendid and I was so happy to be in great company and share interesting conversations as well as perform an awkward yet video taped version of "The itsy bitsy spider" for the entire crowd. I want more evenings like that. Very classy.
Also, it is bitter cold. My jacket is stabbed through multiple times by the jaws of winter as the needle wind takes illegal jabs at my face. Make it stop. Vietnam is supposed to be in the 30 degrees which is better than my 1 degree here in DAEGU.
I have devoured an entire bag of cheerios cereal in three sittings.
My love for TV has resurfaced and I watched 10 episodes of Modern Family in one afternoon (this storyline parallels the one of my cheerio eating fests)
I still have to purchase a flight from vietnam to thailand and pack.
IT IS SO FRIGIDLY UNBEARABLY COLD THAT I WILL DIE if I don't hide under my blankets and cling to my heated mattress from the time I get home from school until I have to wake up the next morning. That is what ARizona weather has done to me. It has made me soft.
Monday, November 29, 2010
I am in love.
I am beginning to realize that I have fallen in love. It is scary. It is somewhat unexpected, yet I cannot deny the feeling of my insides bubbling over with happiness.
The object of my relentless love does not have a name. Actually, there are about 240 names (120 that were given to them at birth and 120 that they picked 4 months ago) that bring me absolute bliss. This overwhelming happiness I have found is with the 6th grade class of BukDaegu Elementary school. This is the most simple, caring and heartwarming relationship I have been in and I am sad that it has to come to an end in 4 short weeks.
Having been a teacher before I know how the game is played. You just cannot help but find a few special students that you click with and then share an extra tight bond with them. The first year of teaching this came in three forms- a set of 8th grade twins from Cuba who I absolutely adored and treated as younger brothers. A 7th grade scrawny little punk who I wanted to adopt and raise "right". The last was a 4th grader who had such an incredibly hard time with anything school related but erupted daily with a bright laugh and a cup-full outlook on life that it was impossible to think a negative thougth about him.
The second year was same same but different, I had strong bonds with a few of my students, and ofcourse I loved them dearly, but the passion wasnt quite as overwhelming as the first year. So now, to my surprise, I have a "first year" romance all over again, and I am quite smitten. The difference in Korea is the quantity of students who I have become close with. The sheer number of warm smiles and hellos I receive in a given day outnumers the good times I had at Bici by a thousand. And the quality is different too. There is more innocence in these kids. There is also a million times more respect and they are grateful for my presence, which makes me work harder to compile educational yet fun lessons. Its really a win-win all around.
Last Wednesday something spectacular happened. My birthday party was attended not only by my brother, who flew from the states to see me, but also 100 of my closest 6th grade buddies. We played games, shouted, ran around, ate lollipops, and took pictures of my brother. The energy in the auditorium was positive beyond my expectations. I could not have been happier or more grateful at that time. Everything I love- brother, students, co-teacher together in one place having fun. It was a thrill for me to watch their faces and hear their excitement as they interacted with Olen. It was like a love potion that kept working it's magic long after we cleaned up the balloons and happy birthday sign, they had all written me small cards and some had brough small trinkets as gifts. Those gestures took the day to another level and I spent an hour in my room reading their notes and sometimes breaking out in laughter though more frequently shedding tears of gratefulness.
The love did not stop there, I met with some of the most amazing people later in the night for delicious soju and then a round of beer. Afterwards, I third wheeled it with my brother and his girlfriend at three daegu favorites- MK Club, G2 and Pasha. In all, my 24th birthday was indeed golden and filled with an incredible amount of love. I am so thankful that I have all the people in my life who made that day so special.
Now back to the love story. I do not think that the special relationship can be completely explained by the fact that the 6th graders and I were born 12 years apart- making us part of the same star sign. But I think the rational of my co-teacher is somewhat valid in the sense that there is a mystical essence about this group that makes the relationship so easy. I also treasure its fragileness because there are few moments in life when you can re-live your first romance and since I am finding that special "first year teacher" love again for the second time I know its true value.
Again, I love love love what I do and I love love love the people who I do it with and that may make me the most love infused person in the world.
Thank you.
The object of my relentless love does not have a name. Actually, there are about 240 names (120 that were given to them at birth and 120 that they picked 4 months ago) that bring me absolute bliss. This overwhelming happiness I have found is with the 6th grade class of BukDaegu Elementary school. This is the most simple, caring and heartwarming relationship I have been in and I am sad that it has to come to an end in 4 short weeks.
Having been a teacher before I know how the game is played. You just cannot help but find a few special students that you click with and then share an extra tight bond with them. The first year of teaching this came in three forms- a set of 8th grade twins from Cuba who I absolutely adored and treated as younger brothers. A 7th grade scrawny little punk who I wanted to adopt and raise "right". The last was a 4th grader who had such an incredibly hard time with anything school related but erupted daily with a bright laugh and a cup-full outlook on life that it was impossible to think a negative thougth about him.
The second year was same same but different, I had strong bonds with a few of my students, and ofcourse I loved them dearly, but the passion wasnt quite as overwhelming as the first year. So now, to my surprise, I have a "first year" romance all over again, and I am quite smitten. The difference in Korea is the quantity of students who I have become close with. The sheer number of warm smiles and hellos I receive in a given day outnumers the good times I had at Bici by a thousand. And the quality is different too. There is more innocence in these kids. There is also a million times more respect and they are grateful for my presence, which makes me work harder to compile educational yet fun lessons. Its really a win-win all around.
Last Wednesday something spectacular happened. My birthday party was attended not only by my brother, who flew from the states to see me, but also 100 of my closest 6th grade buddies. We played games, shouted, ran around, ate lollipops, and took pictures of my brother. The energy in the auditorium was positive beyond my expectations. I could not have been happier or more grateful at that time. Everything I love- brother, students, co-teacher together in one place having fun. It was a thrill for me to watch their faces and hear their excitement as they interacted with Olen. It was like a love potion that kept working it's magic long after we cleaned up the balloons and happy birthday sign, they had all written me small cards and some had brough small trinkets as gifts. Those gestures took the day to another level and I spent an hour in my room reading their notes and sometimes breaking out in laughter though more frequently shedding tears of gratefulness.
The love did not stop there, I met with some of the most amazing people later in the night for delicious soju and then a round of beer. Afterwards, I third wheeled it with my brother and his girlfriend at three daegu favorites- MK Club, G2 and Pasha. In all, my 24th birthday was indeed golden and filled with an incredible amount of love. I am so thankful that I have all the people in my life who made that day so special.
Now back to the love story. I do not think that the special relationship can be completely explained by the fact that the 6th graders and I were born 12 years apart- making us part of the same star sign. But I think the rational of my co-teacher is somewhat valid in the sense that there is a mystical essence about this group that makes the relationship so easy. I also treasure its fragileness because there are few moments in life when you can re-live your first romance and since I am finding that special "first year teacher" love again for the second time I know its true value.
Again, I love love love what I do and I love love love the people who I do it with and that may make me the most love infused person in the world.
Thank you.
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