Log50: A Few Moments

Today I concluded my three-and-a-half week long journey of speaking tests, an endeavor that required a 2-3 minute conversational interview with each of my 750 students.  

My penultimate interview occurred not thirty minutes ago upstairs with one of my second grade students.

His English is not very good, and his dream is to become a physical education teacher.  As co-captain of the second grade basketball club on campus, he is reputedly one of the most talented ballers on campus.  I have played with/against him, and he is as they say: quite good.  

He has always been a good student, but one who also exudes a humble, bucolic naivete.  His innocence recalls his pastoral roots: his parents are farmers and his elder brothers are planning on going to back to the farm as well.

Most interviews close with a handshake after I express my gratitude and wish the student good luck.  The student searches for an affirmation of this conclusion in my smile, then loosens the grip on the hand, stands up and walks back into the classroom.  Then the next student leaves.

This particular student described to me his family and his brothers' current circumstances.  He tells me he wants to be a physical education teacher because he is "good at physical."  I smile, and he imitates.  There is indubitable warmth between us, a true feeling of brotherhood.  

I wish him luck and shake his two bear-like hands with my right.  As he stands, curiosity goads him to ask me a simple question: Teacher, when you go America?  I tell him July.  In summer vacation.

Oh my Gahd, no teacher, he says, with a broad, idyllic smile on his face.  But it's a warm smile that is genuine and bittersweet.  It is steadfast in the wake of potentially unpleasant news. The smile oozes aplomb and sagacity beyond his years, and accepts the inevitable with a courage perhaps only seen in the young and the restless.

Call me, Teacher, he says with a softer smile.

I reassure him by asking him to call me if and when he comes to the United States.  He asks if I will come back to Korea, and I say yes but I don't know when.

Just yesterday a different class broke my heart because they were so unruly and disrespectful to the rules and atmosphere of the class (fortunately these less charitable ascriptions of this class is not unique; other teachers have felt the same way about this particular group).  

Today, this student transformed my spirits in just a few moments.

Gratitude is an awfully nice word.