"Teacher, I have finished"

One year on. One year gone. How has it been? What’s it like living/working/playing in a vibrant, metropolitan Asian city? What are the positives? The negatives? What have I learnt? Or more importantly, what have I taught? The past year has seen me give a lot more than take. I’ve discovered a new pasture in my life.

I’ve really, to put it simply, got stuck right into the art of teaching English, as a second language. Some teachers come, get their free passport to Asia, do their year and march on with little care. I guess this was kind of my plan, although no cement was mixed. I didn’t really expect to warm to my new job in the fashion that I have. I did have doubts about my capabilities, and also my patience for the adolescent ages. What has happened has surprised me. Not life changing, just an adventure, forming a new chapter of my life.

I can’t help but compare a few things from ‘Now and Then’. The one comparison that sticks and acts as the sticking point for me is the job satisfaction.

The Then:

Working at Bellwood Media was a great job. Reading big movie scripts months before you street kids get your public eyes on them, was kind of cool and rewarding. Securing that BIG placement deal was a rush I not had in the workplace before.

The Now:

Hands down. Flawless. No question. No doubt. Seeing a 5/6 year old grow, not only in personality and character but, of course, their English speaking ability is the single most satisfying reward I’ve ever come across.

That’s my sticking point. And that’s why I’m sat on an airplane, writing this, thinking about my 3-week vacation to the UK. And it being, just, a vacation and not a homecoming. No just yet anyway, “Teacher! I haven’t finished”.

Something else:::::

It was a monsooning Monday. I had finished work, eaten my dinner consisting of a kimbap roll and a bottle of soya milk and had juts left my (old) apartment and was heading to my (new) apartment to check on a few things with my substitute teacher. She’s residing at my new gaff during her month long stay in Seoul.

The rain was teaming down. The kind of rain that reduces visibility down to a metre or two. I ceremonially opened my umbrella and a wave of adulthood flew through me. It suddenly dawned on me that I had an umbrella. An umbrella of my own, that I had purchased for myself a few weeks ago in a very wise and grown-up state of mind.

I realised that an umbrella, a self owned umbrella, is a significant accessory to that of a grown up person. A person who has, over the years, acquired a mature level of practical convenience. In the past, I had willingly accepted getting wet and even felt kind of macho about the whole thing. “Umbrellas are for pussys”. “A little bit of rain never hurt anyone”.

Well, I’m 25 now and feel it’s warmly acceptable for me to carry one around.

Still with umbrellas in our thoughts. A few days ago, I witnessed an umbrella collision, pile-up and resulting traffic jam. Yet again, as it does in monsoon season, the rain was violently pouring. A wide berth of pavement narrowed to become a generous single file. Around ten people, all carrying golf sized umbrellas, all come to locker heads. It was beautiful to watch. I stood back as they organised themselves like a heard of cattle packing into its truck. Normality soon resumed.