Wonhyo-sa is a temple, one of several, founded by Wonhyo, the fellow who left such an impression on me at Songwangg-sa last week. He's the horrified guy in the painting who has discovered the delicious water he drank from a golden vessel is actually dirty water from a skull. Wonhyo is considered the fountainhead of Korean Buddhism.
Before he heads off, Rob joins me in a cup of coffee shared with Head Teacher Scott at Angel In Us coffee shop near the LEC. We have a good laugh as we tell Scott that we have fallen victim to the same affliction he mentioned having at the start of our visit. In working with L2 learners, or, in the common vernacular, English language learners, he has lost some facility with his mother tongue. In four short weeks, Rob and I are developing the same condition. We speak more slowly, drop articles, such as "a" and "the," and break words down, syllable by syllable, in ordinary conversation.
We tell Scott that his gig at Chonnam University is a teacher's paradise. Students are respectful and hard-working. The pay is good, the climate terrific, and the general atmosphere conducive to a healthy and happy lifestyle. He agrees wholeheartedly, and wonders whether he'll ever be able to transition to the North American classroom. Rob and I are beginning to wonder the same of ourselves!
While we chat, I'm gobsmacked to turn around and see our American friend, Andrea, walk through the door! I had thought her long gone. It turns out she's still in Gwangju with her daughter. We had earlier met one of her girls, but this lass is here to stay. She's an English teacher, and, just like her mother, she's filled with joie du vivre. We chat for a time while Rob and Scott go off to take care of some business, and the daughter has her interview.
Andrea shares an article her daughter has written about teaching, and the "voice" is so familiar to me, it's as if I'd written myself. This young woman, like her mother, is a natural teacher. She loves the work and the students. I'd hire her in a heartbeat. As Rob would say, I'd even let her babysit my dogs. But it's no wonder this kid is so together - her mother, Andrea, is an inspiration. I very much would like to keep in touch.
When Scott leaves to teach, and Rob heads off to Wonhyo-sa, I meet with dear little Geumran/Natalie and her TA/Assistant Sueyun. Geumran, you may recall, took English language classes in Winnipeg last winter. Why they recruit these kids to come when it's 50 below is beyond me! It's a huge shock to the system, and combined with a heavy workload, strange food, a tight time frame of just a few months, and being far from home, only the very committed can survive. Geumran is a bright and determined gal, so she rose quickly to the top. She tells me this has something to do with the Korean student's ingrained capacity for dealing with intense competition. Sueyun agrees.
Sueyun is a crackerjack, sharp as a tack, slip of a thing who schools in Seoul for much of the year. She's home visiting family, and of course, working. She says all work and no play may make Jack a dull boy, but it's status quo for Korean youth. We talk about the propensity for this kind of thinking in nations that rebuild from war. And when you think about, in just sixty years, Korea has come pretty far. They didn't do it by sipping juleps and lazing around in the summer heat.
Geumran gives me the best news possible on this working vacation: She tells me that the Summer Exploration students rated me their Number One Teacher! This makes me unspeakably happy, not because it's some sort of popularity contest, but because I work very hard to make learning interesting, fun, and by extension, easy for students. I truly believe this is the best way in which to encourage the development of life-long learning habits. I credit my life-long learner parents, my Grade 10 History teacher Joe Cymbalisty, Grade 11 English teacher Cal Sommerville, and most of all, my Grade 8 English teacher Dorothy Beach, for showing me the path to good teaching through excellent role modeling.
I walk my friends back to their office next door, and on the way out of the building I bump into TAs Sang Seop and Gun. We hug and laugh, and promise to stay in touch. You know, a friend once told me that the key to emotional health is to recognize those who give you energy, and those who take it away, and to avoid the latter. Today, every person with whom I've had contact has been an energizer. It's a bountiful, and fulfilling Friday!
By 2:30, I'm famished as I haven't eaten since 9, and then I only had a little fruit and yogurt. I stop by Iris toast to take out a bite. The owner now recognizes our predilections and asks, "Hem and chiss?" I tell her I'd love a ham and cheese omelette. She points to another spot on the menu and nods. Thinking it must be a version of the same, I nod back. I plan to stand and wait, but she ushers me to a table and, like yesterday, brings the fan near and switches it to max. These poor Koreans worry so when they see big, sweaty, North Americans. No matter how scorching the day, they just don't break a sweat.
Imagine my surprise when my bulgogi burger reaches the table, and it's eat-in. It turns out this little lady is taking time to sit with me and chat. She points to the empty chair next to me and says something in Korean. Taking an educated guess, I explain that nampyeon is visiting a temple at Mudeong-san. She is shocked, and indicates, like yesterday, that she hopes he's wearing a hat. I tell her lunch is "mushiseumnida" (delicious), we bow to each other, and I head out the door to seek the haven of our air-conditioned apartment.
Husband stumbles in the door around 8. He's spent much of the day attempting to walk eight kilometres straight up a mountain, because walking gains more merit. Eventually, better judgment took over, and he bussed the remaining TWO kilometres, a fifteen minute bus ride. On the ride home he's a minor celebrity, apparently due to his ability to grow an incredible quantity of facial hair! One middle-aged fellow, fully decked in long sleeved, long legged hiking gear, proclaims, "I love you!" It's his version of, "Hello." The only thing more impressive than Husband's beard, or ability to walk six kilometres up a mountain in 30 plus heat, is that he even managed to get a perfect picture of the black butterfly I was unable to capture on film the other day. Well, maybe not that exact butterfly, but one just like it!
We have a late dinner in Hu Moon at a funky Japanese restaurant, one of those with the food that rolls by on a belt on an oval shaped track. That method of presentation always seems so Blade Runnerish to me. We each have a "set," or, combo. Rob has a roll, and I have the real deal sushi/sashimi. We both are served delicate miso soup, and a wondrous noodle, seaweed soup.
The Japanese owner is most pleased with our obvious rapturous response to the meal. When we pay our bill, I notice he hasn't charged for the dessert, a cheery strawberry ice cream with sprinkles and toasted rice flakes, served with two dime sized spoons. He says it's his pleasure to give us this gift. I tell him the pleasure was all ours; it's the best sushi I've had since eating in seventeen years, comparable only to that found right in Japan.
A perfect evening ends curled up with Husband and Aravind.
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