Submitted under the title 'memories' in
reference to a Korean
diary bearing the inscription:
"Here are the days of small but memorable memories. Relish small but memorable moments that made life more meaningful."
Witness me relishing me small but memorable memories...
Three years in Korea has left me with many lasting memories:
inspiring, exotic, comical but always touching and
thought-provoking. As a teacher much time is spent working to a
plan, but it is the impromptu moments of natural interaction that
will resonate long after my memory of the details is gone. My time
with the Nonsan Office of Education has been blessed with an
abundance of such gems; mere minutes that I will cherish for the
rest of my life.
Some of the best memories involve full-body translation in
mid-conversation: acting out some word not easily explained or some concept
not easily demonstrated. Children have infinite patience for explaining
things that are important to them, and they will utilise every bit of
English, every action, every sound and every picture they can muster to
explain why they are so happy today, or why they suspect their hamster has
lost its marbles. From third grade elementary school students describing
their weekend via charades to first grade high school students translating
scenes from Korean movies I will never forget the efforts of my students to
communicate with me, making our English classes colourful, natural
interaction rather than textbook reproduction.
There are many fun memories that make me smile. Making jam and cream
sandwiches at summer camp, the inventive English names students choose for
their teams, the many versions of Gollum drawn in games of Pictionary. For
Halloween this year I made a papier mache pumpkin and filled it with candy
and cold cooked ramyeon. Students passed the Jack-O-Lantern around and when
the music stoped the student with the pumpkin had to close their eyes and
feel around in Jack's ramyeon 'brains' for some candy. The first student
squealed in disgust but then, as I handed him some tissue, he whispered
"Teacher, it's ramyeon!" He maintained the ruse, and at the end a few
curious students approached me "Teacher: is it really brains?!"
The Nonsan Office of Education winter camp was 6 days at Daech'eon Beach,
100 students and 8 foreign teachers. My activity class was cooking. My
elementary school counterpart sensibly chose to make pancakes and
hamburgers, nice simple recipes easily managed, but for the middle school
students I planned Spaghetti and Meatballs, an ambitious undertaking even in
my own house. We soon had a few Jamie Olivers in the making, instant
experts at dicing onion and seperating eggs. There was a moment when,
observing students--raw pork mince up to their elbows flailing their
spatulas in the general direction of their burning meatballs--I almost
despaired; but the eventual cries of "delicious" and the requests to be
allowed to deliver plates of spaghetti to favourite teachers made it all
worthwhile.
Towards the end of that camp we took the students down to the beach
itself as a field trip, but no particular activites were organised . There
were traditional Korean kites and games, and there was the sand and the sky
and the sea. As I searched for seashells on the seashore students
approached me with their own finds. We compared notes and exchanged
vocabulary; one girl explained to me "It's a seashell; my name is So-ra,
which means seashell." Another student had a wriggling creature in his
hand: "Teacher, what is it in English?" I told him it was a starfish and he
nodded, satisfied at the self-explanatory name. So-ra examined my seashell,
and exclaimed "Wow teacher, it's beautiful!" I looked around and saw teachers
and students playing together; flying kites, digging for crabs, skimming
stones. "Yes," I replied, "it's incredibly beautiful."
...liminil...
