Yesterday was a day of good-byes. It was my last day teaching at Jun-dong Elementary. When I woke up in the morning, everything I did had a special significance knowing that it would be the last time I would do it. Tying my shoes I thought, "The last time I tie my shoes before going to school," walking down the stairs each step echoed in the hallway, "last step, last step, last step." The whole way to school, I felt the same, with an ache in my heart even for things I've never enjoyed, like waiting at the chilly and crowded Cheonyeongri bus station.
My students in the 2nd grade clasroom threw me a good-bye party. When I entered the classroom, the lights had been turned off, and in the center of the room there was a soft glow from a candlelit cake. The students stood in a circle around me and sang a good-bye song. My teacher filmed me while they sang. In the video, I see myself fluxuating between elation and holding back tears. At the end of the video, my students shout the same thing they always shout at the end of class, "We love you, Renee Teacher!" When I watch the video, I once again feel needle pricks in my heart, throat and eyes as my voice catches and I shout back (for the last time), "I love you too!"
Untitled from Renee Badenoch on Vimeo.
Of course the day wasn't all sad. My students showered me with gifts as they left the class. Some of them were professionally wrapped, and held store-bought items like chocolates and green tea. Others were more simple, but still very precious because they were given out of the child's own small collection of things--two girls gave me all of their origami paper, a small, dirty toy panda bear, and one dum-dum lollipop with a bent stick. My favorite gift of all came from a boy named Wun Chae. Wun Chae is a rascally epitome of boy who's talent for the performance my students gave was making a long, bellowing burping noise. He handed me a thin, delicately wrapped box about the length of my index finger. Inside was a tube of expensive "Kissy Kiss" lip gloss.
After 2nd graders left, I taught my afternoon class of 6th graders. I gave a power-point presentation lesson on metaphors and similes. I ended the class by giving my girls roses, saying, "I am giving this to you with a simile, because you are as pretty as roses," and all of the students chocolate bars, "another simile, because you are sweet like candy." I waited around in class to take some pictures with my students, and left, skipping down the hill jubilantly, thinking of students and gifts, and the promise of snow in the air.
At the bottom of the hill, that old reverence came back bitingly. "You'd better appreciate your last walk home," it whispered. I stopped skipping, and walked slowly, covering my face in my hands. My untied shoelaces clicked against the asphalt, "Good-bye, good-bye" and I thought, "This is the beginning of the end." Now, I approach my next week--a week that is an extended last day of packing up presents and saying farewells--and every moment holds a melancholy mixture of sacred and sad.
My students in the 2nd grade clasroom threw me a good-bye party. When I entered the classroom, the lights had been turned off, and in the center of the room there was a soft glow from a candlelit cake. The students stood in a circle around me and sang a good-bye song. My teacher filmed me while they sang. In the video, I see myself fluxuating between elation and holding back tears. At the end of the video, my students shout the same thing they always shout at the end of class, "We love you, Renee Teacher!" When I watch the video, I once again feel needle pricks in my heart, throat and eyes as my voice catches and I shout back (for the last time), "I love you too!"
Untitled from Renee Badenoch on Vimeo.
Of course the day wasn't all sad. My students showered me with gifts as they left the class. Some of them were professionally wrapped, and held store-bought items like chocolates and green tea. Others were more simple, but still very precious because they were given out of the child's own small collection of things--two girls gave me all of their origami paper, a small, dirty toy panda bear, and one dum-dum lollipop with a bent stick. My favorite gift of all came from a boy named Wun Chae. Wun Chae is a rascally epitome of boy who's talent for the performance my students gave was making a long, bellowing burping noise. He handed me a thin, delicately wrapped box about the length of my index finger. Inside was a tube of expensive "Kissy Kiss" lip gloss.
After 2nd graders left, I taught my afternoon class of 6th graders. I gave a power-point presentation lesson on metaphors and similes. I ended the class by giving my girls roses, saying, "I am giving this to you with a simile, because you are as pretty as roses," and all of the students chocolate bars, "another simile, because you are sweet like candy." I waited around in class to take some pictures with my students, and left, skipping down the hill jubilantly, thinking of students and gifts, and the promise of snow in the air.
At the bottom of the hill, that old reverence came back bitingly. "You'd better appreciate your last walk home," it whispered. I stopped skipping, and walked slowly, covering my face in my hands. My untied shoelaces clicked against the asphalt, "Good-bye, good-bye" and I thought, "This is the beginning of the end." Now, I approach my next week--a week that is an extended last day of packing up presents and saying farewells--and every moment holds a melancholy mixture of sacred and sad.
Renee,
ReplyDeleteIf you demonstrated your own belching talent to Wun Chae, then I am not surprised he gave you kissy kiss lip gloss. He probably thinks that you are a kindred spirit.
Renee, are you aware that a tom-boy is a girl that acts like a boy? Because I must admit I feel bad for Wun Chae now that you've referred to him as a girl. Maybe you just don't know what you're talking about though, so I guess it wasn't intentional.
ReplyDeleteOh.... yeah. Changed that.
ReplyDelete