Since making the decision ( a mere five days ago!) to return to Korea after my March - April vacation to the states, several thoughts have fallen into place alongside several events which have confirmed, for me, the wisdom of said decision.
As I expected, many people expressed great happiness with my decision to return, especially Susie's and Hyeri's mother Sue. Though I'm confident I did not make this decision simply to please her or anyone else, no one would deny how gratifying it feels to be the recipient of love and affection.
I went to Sue's apartment on Thursday to tell her the news. The twins were away at a friend's house so we didn't get a chance to see each other. The next day, Valentines Day, Sue called and asked to see me between classes at Weesing. When I met them outside, Susie and Hyeri leaped out of the car and embraced me for a good 3 minutes. Sue explained they had "bawled" when they heard they'd missed me the day before. She promised they could see me the following day to bring me some Valentine candy, which they did, in homemade paper baskets and with handwritten "I love you" notes.
These girls are too young to comprehend what it meant when I'd said I would be leaving for good in March. Their reaction, I believe, was limited to their child-like desire to be around loved ones. Of course I couldn't care less WHY they wanted to see me and hug me because I was equally happy to see them. But as to my previous decision to leave for good next month, I walked away musing, "I'm supposed to walk away from that?! I don't think so."
So I ask, "What says it will any easier to leave in November versus March?" Answer: "It's going to be noticeably harder!" What have I gotten myself into? Privately, I've already started to think I may just end up staying another full year, barring unforeseen factors.
There has been other pleasant fallout from my decision but the most compelling happened Friday night. It was my first night to teach a new class Mr. Kim has titled "Conversation A." It's made up of seven boys who I believe are each either in the last grade of elementary school or the first grade of middle school. Of the seven, I've previously taught three and I'm familiar with one other.
(A couple side notes to better explain my story. 1. Aside from housewives, we only teach pre-school, elementary, and middle school students at Weesing. By the time they reach high school, students don't have time to attend hagwons outside of regular school. I've taught a fair number of the first two groups but it seems I've spent an equal amount of time with middle school students so I've often witnessed the behavioral challenges that surface as students leave elementary school and childhood behind. 2. My 9th grade English teacher, Mr. Schroeder, of Pleasant Grove Junior High, once told us, "All educators think of junior high students as the arm pit of the education system." I don't recall his reasons for revealing this harsh belief nor do I remember exactly why he felt this way. I do know I've always believed and continue to middle school students can be especially difficult to teach because of the whole "leaving childhood behind and entering adulthood and puberty" problem which is further complicated by the fact that every student is on a different timetable when it comes to making these changes. I'm aware I haven't stated anything terribly original here.)
It was a special experience Friday night to teach anew some students from previous classes. I noticed they'd grown and matured since we'd last met. I also noticed the unique dynamic of teaching a class full of boys only. (This occasionally happens at our hagwon but I've never known if it is intentional or accidental. In contrast, the vast majority of Korean middle and high school students are segregated.) As we proceeded with our first lesson, I could sense, to differing degrees, how each boy was attempting assert his emerging maturity. Some were more comfortable than others. Some actually looked like typical maturing teenage boys but their discipline and behavior was that of elementary aged children.
With the new school year about to start and given the newness of the class itself, the hour we spent together felt pivotal. I felt an alarming sense of responsibility and even power to shape the lives of these budding students. Though I will only see them two hours a week, I actually felt like I had the power to influence the futures of these young boys.
So how did this experience reaffirm my desire to return to Chuncheon? I recognized the challenge I had to rise to the moniker of a good teacher and I welcome it. To walk away from it right now, under the guise of seeking new experiences in another land, feels selfish.
While I don't foresee settling in Korea, it's hard to imagine I'll want to leave any time too soon.
by Richard L. Anderson