Prince Charmings

There were so many Prince Charmings in my classes this semester...so many students who wrote about yearning to win the hearts of their loves! :) I've been surprised by the level of vulnerability in my students' writing assignments. More so, I have been quite amused, sometimes smiling and chuckling to myself, and often touched by their expressions of love, particularly coming from some students who seemed pretty serious or shy in class! 

I'll give you a glimpse of what I've read...(Keep in mind that English is their second language, and this is probably their first writing class ever! And now that I'm studying Korean I realized that the languages are so different!)

---Sometimes I think about if I confessed my love for her, she agree my confess? I know that I'm very stupid, but I really love her until now...If I can go back to last year, I must say for her, "I love you." If she didn't agree my confession, I don't care about that. I just want to confess.

---When I was 17 years old, I met my first love in the private educational institute. I fell in love at first glance when I first saw her. I dashed to her aggressively, but she didn't take my heart. However, I didn't give up to dash to her. I decided to show her all of my sincere heart. Finally, she taked my heart, and we became a couple. 

These are just two humorous excerpts from the hundreds of papers I've ready this semester. I have felt honored that my students trusted me to share their hearts with me through their writing. Perhaps writing is a mode in which people can feel a sense of privacy and safety. I theorize that somehow writing in a second language, despite the inherent difficulty in using a foreign vocabulary and grammar system, can provide an outlet in which many students can express themselves with perhaps greater transparency not having to worry about the social regulations attached to their first language (for example, Korean language has different levels of formality that must be used depending on the age and position of the person you're talking to). Anyhow, I love teaching English Composition. It gives me a window into my students' hearts. :)

My Father's Day Card

Dear Dad, 

On this day, I wish I could give you a gift. But leaving a legacy is the greatest gift a father could give. I hate that you left, but I'm so thankful for your legacy. I'm honored that I can proudly think of you, remember you, speak of you with my head held high in amazement of the perseverance of your strength and your faith. I wish I could have kept you forever, but I'm thankful I had a father whom I loved and trusted with my whole heart. I knew you, and you knew me. I more than loved you. I adored you. You were my superhero, my warrior, my champion, and my best friend. I pray God hosts a huge BBQ for you today with steak on the raw side and a big corn on the cob, and I'm sure you can beat everyone else in eating it faster! And maybe there are oceans in heaven and you can body surf today too. Perhaps conclude the day with some deep discussion, a backgammon or chess match, and munch on some snickerdoodle cookies or vanilla wafers or fig newtons, which I never ate because you said they were mashed up bugs! :) Maybe Father's Day is even better than I can imagine in heaven. But at least it better be as good as I can imagine down here. I love you, and miss you Dad. 

Happy Father's Day. 

Love,

T

A Culture of Togetherness

"Mourn with those who mourn; Rejoice with those who rejoice." -Romans 12:15

I've seen this verse in action in Korean society these past couple of months. As many of you may know, there was a horrible tragedy in Korea on April 16th as a ship sunk and around 300 passengers, mostly high school students and teachers, died on their way to a school field trip off the Korean coastline. I was obviously here during this national tragedy as the whole nation anxiously hoped for good news of rescue and then mourned the loss of so many lives, especially young lives. I got to see deeply into the heart of Korean culture, as it was a collective loss and the society visibly changed as a result of it. There was a heaviness and silence and then rage and depression felt among the Korean people. For example, the doctor's clinic I visit is usually bustling with voices as patients chat emphatically in the waiting room, but during those days as the tragedy unfolded, everyone sat in silence, eyes fixed on the TV screen, everyone holding their breath that at least one life would be saved. It was very heartbreaking to witness this tragedy that felt very close to home for me. When I looked at my students' faces, I thought of the young students who were lost; when I saw mothers and fathers on my subway, I imagined those waiting at the shore crying out their children's names, sleeping on the gym floor for days and weeks, just to trying to survive the minutes that turned into days and weeks as they waited. 

Witnessing this national tragedy, gave me the opportunity to observe how the society responds to tragedy. Korea is very much a communal society, so they believe in mourning together. I think grief in western society is often privatized, creating a deeper sense of loneliness than loss already naturally brings, but here in Korea, the grief was shared among all. For example, most foreigners found it surprising and extreme, but as a result of the national tragedy all entertainment channels ceased, all 'social' events were cancelled at all schools in the country, and even Samsung sent out a notice to all employees not to golf or drink to honor the losses. As we celebrated my friend's father's birthday he said normally he loves to do karaoke on his birthday, but this year we wouldn't, because it wouldn't be right as many families were in mourning. 

Here is an excerpt of one of my student's writings (from an intermediate level sophomore English class) in which she talks about the tragedy...

"If I could go back to a time and place in the place in the past, I would go Inchon and April 16th. The date is passenger ship sank. Many people were dead, and worldwide people are sad. The passenger ship is in too much young people. They are 17-18 years old. They are going to Jeju island. If I could go back to some time and place in the past, I would go back to when April 16th in Inchon, so I can save our children. I was really much crying since this accident happened. Because too much young people were dead and the dead's family is very sad. I really want to go back to this accident. If I couldn't go back to this time, I would go when maritime police rescue people. If I were maritime police, I would rescue people fast, or if I were captain or crewman, people in boat rescue first. I'm so sorry to many student didn't do their dream. I think a worldwide people sad by this disaster. If I could go back, I would rescue the people in boat."

All over Korean buildings and schools hung yellow ribbons representing hope for a miracle. Ribbons still are hung at my university entrance upon which students, faculty, and staff have written messages to the students. As painful as it was to witness this tragedy, I am thankful I was here, because it gave me a window into the heart of Korean culture. I developed a deeper love for the Korean people having experienced the emotions of this loss together and was touched having witnessed much beauty in the nation's communal response.

I'm an international student

I went to my first Korean class tonight. I found it comical as I've taught international students for the past 6 years, and tonight I sat in my first class and I'm sure my face looked lost. I laughed at myself as I realized that, yes, they were going to speak Korean, and only Korean in this class. I don't know where I got the idea that they would might use English because I was a beginner. No, the teacher didn't speak English and neither did the students. Why should they? I'm in Korea. Actually, my classmates tonight were primarily Chinese and Vietnamese. I think I was the lowest Korean speaker as I'm joining mid-session. But I didn't mind. I found it so interesting and amusing as the teacher gave a dictation quiz and I tried to write what I heard. Who knows what I wrote?! I know the Korean alphabet (which is fascinating by the way, because it's considered the most phonetic language), so I can read and write a little, but this dictation exercise was above my skills! I enjoyed the role reversal as the Vietnamese girls next to me tried to speak slowly and repeat their questions again and again in Korean to me with minimal success. They were sweet. They resorted to acting the words out so I could understand, like gym (running motion), library (holding a book in her hands), etc. It was an interesting night and I'm so thankful I can finally join a class. I've been looking for a class for several weeks. I found it discouraging as I couldn't find any in my area as I think I'm the only foreigner in my town (the majority are in the center of Seoul, and I'm outside the main city). I was frustrated, thinking 'I'm in Korea; why is it so hard to find a Korean class?!' But, actually, it's logical. Koreans don't need Korean language classes. You have to find foreigners to find Korean language classes. Also, I was getting frustrated because when I called several Korean language schools, they only spoke Korean, which means my phone call attempt at getting information was unsuccessful, because I was calling because I couldn't speak Korean well; that's why I wanted to sign-up for the class! It seemed to me that you have to know Korean to learn Korean! ...But with the help of the Korean Tourist Organization earlier this week, I finally found a Korean language class pretty close to me at a community center in a neighboring town. I'm very excited to attend the classes. And, after being lost in class tonight, I plan to make my English class a little easier tomorrow so the lost faces will feel a little less lost. (My students might be thankful I've started studying Korean!) :)

The Care of Strangers

How many people does it take to get Tamara from point A to point B? Sometimes it takes several, usually it takes at least a few. Each day as I travel by subway and bus around South Korea, I am constantly asking for help to make sure I'm getting on the right number train, that it is going the right direction, that it isn't going to skip my stop, etc. This is a multiple step process as I make transfers on the subway. My first week of work, I knew how to get to my university but somehow didn't realize that I should think about how to get back home. On my bus ride back to my apartment, I wasn't sure when to get off the bus (Give me a little grace, I had just moved in less than a week before!). An umma (Korean for mother) noticed I looked lost (perhaps, a common look on my face, which thankfully, often elicits empathy and help!). She asked me something in Korean, and I told her the name of my bus stop which I was relieved I remembered how to say in Korean. She hand gestured to me (pointing to her chest emphatically many times), which I gathered meant she wanted to help me. I thought I heard my bus stop called so I stood up to get off, and she turned around and scolded me, again pointing to herself. I realized, I need to trust this umma. When the bus reached my stop, she signaled for me to follow me and she guided me off the bus and waited until she felt I knew where I was going from there.

Today, I was going to an unfamiliar place and asked the bus driver in my broken Korean if this bus was going to stop where I needed to go. He seemed confused because my pronunciation was off. A man with a suit on the bus asked me in English where I wanted to go. Hearing English is often such a beautiful sound, especially when you're afraid you're lost. He said he was going to the same place, so I didn't need to worry. He walked with me even up the stairs leading to the building and I found out he was a professor at the university nearby.

Tonight, when I entered the subway to ride home from work, I anxiously looked around to see if I might get lucky and get a seat. Getting a seat is like winning the lottery when your trip home is over an hour. Sitting and standing is whole different experience (the latter being very tiring). As I quickly scanned the subway car I had entered, a haraboji (Korean for grandfather) signaled to me to sit next to him, pointing to the open seat beside him. Actually, I shouldn't sit there, as there is a designated seating section in each subway car for the elderly, handicapped, and pregnant women (indicated by a picture of these). I don't fall under any of these categories, so it is not considered good manners to sit in this section, especially in a society which highly reveres the elderly. I shook my head and said, gwanchanayo, meaning, "it's ok."  But he pointed again to the seat next to him even more passionately this time and said in English, "Sit here." It would also be rude to not listen to an elderly person's words, so after refusing again and him insisting, I thanked him and sat down. Mercy for the foreigner. I was very surprised that he spoke English, especially since he appeared to be in his mid-80s. I asked him with a smile, "You speak English?!" He said, "Yes," and "high school teacher." I gathered his high school teacher had taught him some English and he remembered. I read my kindle for a little while and he kept glancing over at it. I saw that he was wearing a Brazilian soccer team jacket and I asked him if he liked "football." He said, "yes," and smiled. I said, "me too." Then he asked me, "Where are you going?" and I told him my subway exit. He nodded confidently and smiled. I sensed this meant, "I know where you're going; don't worry." When it was my exit he tapped me and I thanked him.

Sometimes I feel discouraged and frustrated by how much help I need everyday to get basic things done. However, I also feel so blessed. When you ask a Korean for help and they indicate they will help you, they really mean it. They will not just give you a flippant answer and go on with their way. If they respond to your request for help, then they take the responsibility upon themselves to make sure you reach your destination. I only shared 3 examples here, but I could share countless...During rush hour, when the subway is absolutely nuts, like human bumper boats as people push and shove to squeeze more people into the subway, I've had young teenagers signal to me when to get off. I've had people open their phone aps and search the way for me get to where I want to go. I've had a halmoni (Korean for grandmother) give me a plastic bag from her purse when she saw I was going to put my dirty banana peel directly in my purse.

I've seen true hospitality to the stranger. Korean culture understands this biblical truth. The Bible teaches that we should not oppress the stranger (Exodus 23:9), and many of us would say, "Well, I don't do that!" But it doesn't stop there. God instructs us to not only not hurt or push down the foreigners among us, but also to love them (Deuteronomy 10:19). This is an entirely different story. How many of us love them? And God goes even further than that. He says, "Accept them as your native born" (Leviticus 19:34). Basically, accept them as your family. This is a much deeper command. (and I don't think it's not a suggestion either). Why does God ask this of his people? I believe it is because God wants us to care for those who do not have power. Living in a foreign land naturally strips you of your power. Objectively speaking, I probably have a considerable amount of power in Korea. I am a university professor, which is a revered position in a society notably "obsessed" with education. Also, there are not negative stigmas against me because of my ethnicity here. Nevertheless, when I am off the university campus, I immediately feel like a child. My best friend and her parents sometimes lovingly tease me that I'm the "family baby" or the "grandchild." I need help to do so so many daily tasks that are so difficult for me on my own, yet so easy for me back home. What comes to mind are the words of a Tanzanian pastor I taught back in the U.S. He said, "I left my country as a leader, and now I'm a baby." I'm so thankful for the many strangers who daily care for me, who are patient, try to understand my attempts at speaking Korean, and who genuinely help me. This experience, even after just 7 weeks, has given me even deeper empathy and conviction for caring for foreigners when I go back to teaching in the U.S. In the way I treat them I want to give them a sense of dignity, as it is not easy to live in a foreign land where the language and customs are so different.

In honor of my father

“We can't be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there is such a thing as an ocean, a sea. Holding onto something that is good for you now, may be the very reason why you don't have something better.” ― C. JoyBell 

I've always been afraid of change. I typically associate it with loss. Yet at the same time, I have always had an adventurous spirit. I have always had an unquenchable desire to learn, to grow, to experience the world, the diverse people in it, and their different ways and expressions of life.

2013 was a year heavy with loss and pain. I lost two of the most cherished people in my life, my dear Grandma Elsie, and just a few months later, my precious father. My courageous mom battled breast cancer and beat it. I broke free from personal cages that were binding me and my wings are ready to fly again. It was a year with dark clouds, a stormy season with few days of sunshine. And, yet, out of this dark season new hope has been born.

Today is my father's birthday. March is my father's month. For the last several years, my dad's birthday has always been a challenge...what gift could mean something to him when he was so limited by the afflictions of his disease? What joy could we bring him when so much was robbed from him? Yet we always managed to make the day special, giving him DVDs of his favorite shows, reading heartfelt cards, playing games in which he could answer through simple looks of the eye. 

This week as I am living in South Korea right now my heart has been heavy. How can I celebrate my father's birthday this year? How can I honor his life? Floods of memories, some filled with joy, others with deep pain came over me this week as I sought to connect with my dad somehow. I wanted people in this country who I can hardly communicate with in my basic level Korean to know that today is my father's day; on this day an amazing man was born. I want to tell everyone about him, about his strength, about his love, about his dry humor, about his adventurous spirit, about his faith and his life. I want the world to know that a great man lived and is now gone and my heart aches and I want the world passing by to know. It feels like life is always full of juxtapositions. Christmas lights twinkling as carols were ringing, cars gathered and families huddled together in entertainment as my family and I stood hearts heavy, broken, exhausted as my dad left this world to be with God. 

Today I am at a beautiful beach called Haeundae, in Busan, South Korea. I am thankful to be here and to have the ocean waves soothe my heart and the sunshine beat on my face. I wanted to find solace here, to find peace away from the busy city life of Seoul. My dad loved the beach. I have a lot of memories of my father at the beach. When I was a child we would boogie board together and I loved the safe feeling of his arms around me as we held on together. My dad often chose a rock we hardly could see far out in the ocean that he said he was going to swim to. Then he'd be gone for a few hours and I would watch the small wave of his arm hitting the seas and hope he'd come back soon. He always did and he was happy although he had made us anxious. I remember walking and talking at the beach, playing paddle ball and trying to beat our score, throwing a football, eating sandy food, watching fireworks from my grandparents house in Capistrano, and being proud of my dad body surfing in San Clemente. 

Happy Birthday to my dearest Dad. I miss you and love you so much. This year you celebrate your birthday with your creator...our family king with our heavenly king. I trust you will have an amazing day beyond anything I can imagine. Thank you for everything, Dad--for your fight, for your legacy, and for your love. Love, T

Birthday Roses (I had delivered to my mom's house)

My bedroom (roses in honor of my dad & a pic of us)

Haeundae Beach