Dearest Family and Friends,

As it has been incredibly long since I've posted here so I'm going to start in the middle of my adventures, such as they are.

Just over a week ago, I was curled over a book in Daegu, when the doorbell rang. Well, by doorbell I mean a small, walled tv security screen in the livingroom of my borrowed apartment lit up. Curious, I padded across the room and stared at the television screen tallying up details: the man was ringing my individual apartment, the man was standing outside, and the man was wearing a DHL uniform...

And then it hit me. That man had my passport! He must not leave! Urgently, I hit a button on the tv screen. It went dark. Panicked, I flung my arms out, wildly casting my eyes about, searching for my key. I crossed to the counter, my panic increasing as I heedlessly scrabbled and I didn't feel even a flash of relief when I snatched the key from under some papers and raced for the elevator - which was on the 22nd floor - so I veered to the staircase. I raced down counting 7, 6, 5.. 2... slightly conscious of my mussed hair flying while more conscious of my foot on each step. At the lobby, I sprinted across the textured granite floor, only for my feet to slide across the newly polished floor and sprawl me on the floor.

"NO!" my panicked brain exclaimed as I ignored painful twinges and picked myself up to keep running outside through hissing doors and whipped my head left then right then left. No delivery man. Determined that I would chase the DHL truck if I had to, I picked up my feet and ran around the corner and came to a breathless halt before a DHL delivery many with a cell phone on his ear. Seconds and smiles and signatures later, I tore open an envelope and my passport fell into my hand. I clutched my passport and burst into tears.

I was leaving Korea.

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A few months ago, as the time stipulated in my second contract began to draw to a close, I began mentally departing from Deagu. I had been invited to speak, for 2 hours, at a Korean English Teacher training course, and I was asked to address: "how teachers could improve their language abilities" and "what I've learned teaching English in Daegu." The text for the speech was due in days and so I dropped everything - including my highfalutin plans for writing daily on this blog - and feverishly set to work contemplating. My brain turned into a seething stew of memories and random ideas. I couldn't keep my mind on other tasks... and I was haunted by the questions of "what had I learned teaching in Korea?" as well as "What had I learned, personally, from my 2 years of living outside the United States?" I did not have readily available answers to these questions.

Eventually I submitted my manuscript, developed a PowerPoint, tamped down my fears that I would fail the man who asked me to speak (in Korea, speakers must uphold their bosses reputations first), and the speech went ok despite no air con on a sweltering July day. During the last week of August, I bid summed up my conclusions for each good-bye class of beloved students by telling them that,

Because I am an adult and a teacher, I cannot leave without giving you guys two
pieces of advice:

(1) As you guys know, in your 3rd year of high school
you guys will be taking a major test - in English we call it the KSAT. [A
heart-felt groan from my students.] The test is important, I cannot deny this,
but I want to remind you guys that you are here at Taegu Foreign Language High
School to be educated, to be prepared for your adult lives. That test, the KSAT
is 1 day; but you are going to (hopefully) live 60 years after this test. I fear
that your society is putting so much pressure on you that you will forget to
prepare for your future. Your future is more, a lot more, than 1 test.

(2) When you are thinking about your future, remember that every day,
every day, you will get out of bed, face yourself in the mirror and then walk out your door to your job, which will be a very important part of your life. So when you decide on a career, please pick a job that you will value, please pick a job that is a good fit with your abilities, a job that reflects your values. By all means, listen to what your society says are good jobs, listen to what your parents think you should do, but remember that in the end, you must live your job, you will live your own life. Do not pick a job that makes you miserable. I had to learn this the hard way; please be smarter than me.

Sadly, and I must say rather incredibly, there were tears during this talk and as we, students and English Conversation teacher, bid each other farewell. During my last conversation classes, students and I baked vanilla cupcakes and smothered them in icing and colorful sprinkles. Students gave me a hug and walked out the door, cleaning their fingers of icing and crumbs. I watched them and repeated over and over to myself that this was the right time to leave them.

Bidding my peer teachers was just as hard. I remembered my inauspicious beginning at TFLHS, I arrived one night just in time for dinner. The night before my arrival, I had taken a red eye from Bangkok and spent the day following in subdued, polite, taxing boredom. Indeed, my eyes felt red and irritated with grit by the time my new guiding teacher escorted me to the school's cafeteria. He briefly introduced me to a few teachers and I think I responded politely but I was dizzy with exhaustion. I took my first bit of kimchi and the heat stabbed my tear ducts and I began crying and gesticulating wildly for tissue. I hate to think about what my new colleagues thought of me that night but I swear that my guiding teacher told me a story about a Texan that came to teach in Korea and only lasted five days due to Korean food. I dragged myself away from dinner that night still surreptitiously dabbing the corners of my eyes and promising myself, that by gum, I could last longer than a Texan.

Two years later, I thought of those tears as I held tears at bay and bid my teachers good-bye. My time at TFLHS was punctuated by serious consternation and lots of smiles, if not outright laughter. I tried not to think, "Will I ever meet the people that I loved so much, that seem to adore me, will I ever meet them again?"

A wise Korean friend once said to me, "We are citizens of the world. Yes, we may be born in Korea or Australia or the US... but we are truly citizens of the world." If nothing else, living in Korea amongst genuinely wonderful people, taught me that. Who knows what the future holds?

Love,
Laura