Brother Yu

We’d been wanting to go to Gyeongju, a city considered the “cultural center” of Korea, since our arrival 9 months ago.  So we squeezed it in at the end of April (with some help from a student, whose uncle runs a hotel there.) It is cherry blossom season, you see; a time when hotel rooms are hard to come by.  Thank you, Derek, ’cause I have checked another thing off my “To Do” list!

Of course, there were some really cool things to see and do in Gyeonju:  an ancient temple (I’d been going through withdrawal since Thailand, apparently), a handicraft center, and an amusement park.  But typical me, I found other things far more enriching than the expected touristy gimmicks.

Like this guy — whose name is Byong Jik Yu.  He predicted that Natalie would grow to be beautiful, that Luke would grow to be famous and that Garrett, through oration, would grow to be very influential.

You can be certain that I liked him right away.

We were walking off a big buffet dinner along Bomun Lake, upon which our hotel sat, when he stopped us, rather hesitantly, around 8:30pm.  He was on his way home from work.  He wanted to practice his language skills.

Through very broken and completely mispronounced English (on his part) and through freakish hand gesturing (on our part) we learned a lot.   If I teach my children nothing else about this year-long adventure I would want them to remember this:  language is not the only means of communication.  Do not be afraid to try.

The pathway along the lake is his favorite way to go home, he said, because many foreigners take that route.  Each day, he asks an English speaker to ask him a question.  He has memorized every question he’s ever been asked, as he writes them down and practices at home.  He struggles with deciphering words when hearing them, but does better with the written word.  He keeps a notebook in his backpack, hoping someone will say yes.  Almost every day, someone does.

He thinks each day this happens he is very lucky.

“When will the Bonggu be ready?” was the last question a native English speaker asked.  Which begs the question, “what the hell is Bonggu and when it’s ready, what will you do with it?”

Mr. Yu has never left his native country, but has decided it is very important to learn the English language.  Why? we asked.  Because people are people was his cryptic answer.   He teaches himself English, primarily through conversation and simple language books he has bought.  Because in Korea, it is very important to be with the rest of the world.  English is the answer to this, he explained.

When he was five, his mother died giving birth to his brother.  His father remarried, but he did not care for his step-mother, or she did not care for him,  and he remained “gloomy and lonely”, until, soon after, he discovered that Catholicism was a comfort, that Christianity made him feel better.  He practices still.

He graduated from University in 1979.  His meager wages, working at a hotel, have never allowed him to buy a car.  He bikes everywhere he needs to go.  He says because of the difficult economy, he makes less now than he did five years ago.  (Here, he pantomimed that Americans have so much money they carry it around on their backs.  Somehow this did not offend us.  He wasn’t judging, just saying.)

He feels Korea has progressed too far, too fast.  He is proud, but afraid of the little traditions that are falling by the wayside;  like the younger person walking behind the elder, showing respect.

It makes him sad when farmers are forced off their land to make way for highrise apartment buildings, especially when no one lives in them.  He thinks children play too many video games and don’t get outside nearly enough.  That nature is very important for all people, but especially children.

Guy’s question to Mr. Yu, which he painstakingly wrote in his notebook, was “is this a natural lake or is it man-made?”

Which really got him going.

Mr. Yu believes that everyone on earth is one.  We on earth are brothers and are all the samethe tall, the wealthy… (which I found to be a very funny coupling of ideas), all the same.  We need to take care of each other and we need to take care of nature.  Things are not good in this realm.  We are in trouble.  The earth, the water, all in big trouble. 

He is right, of course.  He told us how scared he is that the changes on the earth are irrevocable.  No, he did not use the word irrevocable.  He said un-fix-it.  Which is the same thing.

He told us about money, and about how it ruins people.  That there is enough for everyone, if we would only take what we need, and not everything we want. 

He had a lot more to say.  I know this because he kept stopping us as we tried to respectfully and smoothly end the conversation when Natalie started dozing off.  Wait, he said after we had said goodnight for the third time. Wait.  Be good.  Take care. 

He thinks he is lucky to meet people who will ask him a question so he can practice his English.  I think the fortune was all ours.  We exchanged email addresses, so Mr. Yu, if you are reading this, you too.  Take good care.

Meet the Students: Eunsol Louis “the Kid” Choi

Be afraid. Be very afraid. There’s some crazy stuff happening inside that head.

Louis doesn’t like her eyes.  She thinks they’re too small.  So when you take her picture, she holds them wide open.  Like this.  I told her she looks better natural, but she said “Oh.  Well.  I don’t care.”

She is a fascinating creature.  She believes, and hopes, for example, that zombies are plotting to take over the earth.  In fact, she thinks she just might be one.  It’s as possible — as possible as anything is– she claims,  that she died in 1974 – at age seven, and that she’s stuck there.  At good ol’ age seven.  She loves gore and horror and blood.

 She’s crazy about her friends and demands that everyone completely accept everyone else for who exactly they are.

Which would work out well for her, I’d say.

With Good Friends

She loves, loves, loves to bake – especially cookies, preferably with chocolate.  She is in my cooking class and sometimes will pop into my ‘regular’ classroom in the middle of the day with a question such as “what the heck is cream of tartar?” to which I answer I really don’t know.  Because I don’t.  I mean really, does anyone? (Mrs. Montgomery – I’ve got 5,000 won on you knowing exactly what this is.  Don’t fail me now, Home Ec Teacher Extraordinaire!)

Louis used to kind of want to be a boy – that was the year she named herself Louis.  She’s rethinking now:  considering Raquel.  I told her the connotations of the name Raquel and she said, happily,  “Oh.  Well.  I don’t care.”

This is Louis.  Who calls herself “The Kid” and even writes that on assignments.  No one else calls her that.  This does not faze her.

She reviles the Korean language, won’t speak it unless her parents force her to. Has decided to grow out her hair.  Finds that she has outgrown, already, living in her parents’ home.  She dreams of living in Ohio, a place so magical it fills her dreams.

Yep, Ohio.

When I told her the connotations of Ohio, she said, happily, “Oh.  Well.  I don’t care.”

It shames me to say that when I first met her, I judged imagined Louis to be a student who would constantly keep her classmates off track, demanding attention and basking in the reactions when she talked about guts, decapitation, surgery and the undead.  This, friends, is why you cannot buy the wine because of the fancy, beautiful label, the car because of the sleek look, the outfit because of the model inside it.

Because Louis is among the brightest, cleverest, most focused academic minds I have ever had the honor of teaching.

Each day in my classroom, students complete a brain warm up activity.  These are often tricky problems, within which answers lie, if you think about the question kind of askew.  Students love these activities and look forward to them every day.  They’re a great way to focus their attention at the start of class.

This is a poem Louis wrote for me, about said Brain Warm Ups.  She did this because she wanted to.

Brains are like leftovers,

they have to be warmed up.

Especially in the mornings

not long after you get up.

A riddle, a puzzle, something out of a book.

It doesn’t matter what it is or how long it has took.

It’s not that easy to go ahead

and think of stuff right up.

‘Cuz brains are like leftovers.

They need to be warmed up.

I found out later, she wrote a poem for each of her teachers, completely unique to something they do in their classrooms.  That’s Louis.  Creative.  Fascinating.  Inventive.  Sagacious.  Witty.  FUN.

I have stopped telling Louis the connotations of anything she says that seems odd.  It is absolutely true that I wish I had half of Louis’ chutzpah.  Half of her zest for life.  Half of her confidence, which is understated, but real.  I wish to take with me, back to America, Louis’ absolute certainty that she is just fine as she is, and thank you very much.

And accepting people for exactly who they are will work out nicely for us all.  Dontcha think?

Louis. Oprah. Oprah. Louis.  (Acting, for a book report.)