In praise of spring and books and life.

Spring has injected new life into my veins.  My outlook is brighter with the flowers that seem to multiply whenever I blink.

I've been thinking about the direction my life has taken over the past several years.  Three years ago, I was crossing the finish line to earn my Bachelor's degree and looking forward to traveling and teaching in Eastern Europe over the summer.  Two years ago, I was in the thick of my application for EPIK, desperately trying to break free from my post-graduate existential crisis and underemployment.  Last year, I'd begun to feel at home in my newly-forged Korean life but I was emphatically greenhorn.

Lately, I'm experiencing something of an expat second honeymoon.  I've grown increasingly excited to be in Korea.  This land and its people fascinate me.  There's so much here in the way of history, architecture, pop culture, cuisine, religion, landscapes.  I've found myself wanting to learn about everything: watch the latest serial drama that my students are raving about, visit temples off the beaten path, and connect with more people in the community.  It feels so good to just be, here and now.

That being said, teaching is not always rosy and I can't pretend that I'm never disappointed, discouraged, or unsatisfied.  Even in my extracurricular Book Reading class, a few students regularly leave me wondering why they bother to show up.  Yet, what I've learned is that attitude is the defining component of most experiences.  I may be assailed with apathetic eye-rolls from one corner, but that doesn't dim the joy I experience when I work with those teenaged humans who have been entrusted to me in that classroom.  I have four second-grade girls who eagerly and enthusiastically volunteer to read for the class.  I have a handful of quieter students who soak in the lesson; even if they rarely speak, I notice that they listen.  I have one boy whose English level is too low to comprehend most of the books, but whose sense of humor and charisma regularly make me laugh.

The Korean Cinderella by Shirley Climo

Furthermore, I was pleasantly surprised with the recognition my co-teachers have given my extracurricular class.  They're so impressed with my efforts they've created a budget for me to buy more picture books for the students!  My co-teachers were surprised by how easily I compiled a list of beautifully illustrated books and asked me how I know so many titles: simply put, it's because of my parents.  My parents, who are both elementary school teachers, read to my five siblings and me all the time growing up.  We made regular trips to the public library.  My favorite part of elementary school was story time.  And--all of my siblings can attest to this--my memory has an annoying knack for detail.  Literature has probably defined more of my life than I'm capable of noticing, so the assignment to teach a Book Reading class feels like kismet.

Books are a medium for growth, whether it's inside or outside of the classroom.  Earlier this month, I had the privilege of visiting The House of Sharing outside of Seoul, a museum and residence related to the victims of Imperial Japan's systematic sexual slavery during World War II.  I'd known a little about the "comfort women," (a euphemistic term the Halmeoni or Grandmothers, as they prefer to be called, resent) before moving to Korea, but the atrocities of Imperial Japan are not common knowledge in the West.  What I learned at The House of Sharing sickened and angered me, but ultimately inspired me.  In spite of heavy stigma, insulting backlash, flagrant denial and, now, old age, survivors of sexual slavery are demanding recognition and pushing for reparation and education in Asia.  The strongest message I took away from The House of Sharing was that these stories need to be shared.  I bought the English version of a children's book about the Halmeoni and have since read it with my students.  While it is a painful and uncomfortable topic, my students reacted were eager to broach the subject.

Dace fish swimming upstream in the Taehwa River

I love teaching because it allows me to share life.  To me, books mean life.  Spring means life.  Korea means life.  This spring, the life that I've built seems more abundant than ever.  This weekend I'm going with a handful of other women to a retreat in the mountains.  I'll happily share about that experience in a future entry.  Peace to you, my beloved readers.