Bambi

Today is my last working day for six weeks. When I previously did this, I was unemployed! But it's a bit different now. I am actually getting paid to be on vacation. Oh, how I love being a teacher.

To end school, God with his infinite sense of humor apparently decided to make the parting somewhat interesting. Firstly, I should say that it is an absolutely stunning day. We have been going through the rainy season, which so far has extended for about a month, dark skies obliterating hopes of hiking or lying on the beach, the air pressing into your lungs and the darkness to your mind. Today, however, the sun broke out, shattering the clouds into hundreds of fragmented pieces all over the sky. They float aimlessly above in the lapis heavens, playfully mimicking a cast of characters. It is this kind of day that pulls me through time into the dreamy memories of childhood, the soft green grass supporting a small body, one hand pointing upward to call out the forms greeting me above. First an old man, then a pirate ship, now a strange sort of dog, but only if you turn your head like this.

I took the bus to work, not wanting to be caged in the dark tunnels of the underground subway. This made me slightly later than usual, as it is a longer walk from the bus stop to my school. But I relished the time in the sun, sipping on my Starbucks Frappuccino with my Ipod providing a rousing morning soundtrack. By the time I made it to school, I was sweating, but in a wonderful mood, absolutely ready to conquer my final three classes of the semester. Upon arriving, I found a large group of students congregated in the parking lot. "What are you doing?" I queried.

"Teacher, animal. Hurt."

As curious as the students to what it was, I awkwardly bent over, peering under the car. It was a baby deer! In my lifetime, I have seen a myriad of deer; this is an inevitable occurrence living in the Midwest. Never before have I seen one in Korea. You rarely see any sort of wildlife, apart from the scavenging gulls that congregate on the beach. Then to see a deer in my school parking lot!

The poor thing was shaking and crying, evidently afraid and somehow hurt. Unsure exactly what to do, I became one of the gawkers staring at the poor thing shaking behind the front tire. One boy, a second year student, procured a long stick, at which point I began to voice my opinion. "What are you doing? Don't hurt it! It's scared. Please don't hurt it!" But I'm sure instead it sounded to them much like the aliens from Calvin's imagination: "Mgrfh Blmpm Hgsmph!" Completely incomprehensible to them. Changing tactics, I knelt behind the student, hoping that me being there would stop any further pain or teasing. Once there, however, I realized the boy was trying to coax it out, trying to get the deer to safety. He was successful, and scooped the bleeding Bambi into his arms. A loud wail filled the air, the cry of a baby desperately afraid. Thin legs flailed as blood arced into the sky (sanguine against azure). But the boy held firm, walking it around to the back of the school.

Trailing after the throng that followed the boy and his wild deer, I found one of my students whose English I knew to be passable. "Does a teacher know? Does a teacher know?" Thus finally identifying myself as a non-teacher, the superfluous foreigner who comes in to babble at them. He assured me, "Yes. Go to hospital."

I parted from the group, walking into the front of the school (where my "inside" shoes are located). Upon entering, I encountered the full staff of teachers as they were exiting from their weekly staff meeting. Searching through the crowd, I found Mrs. Hwang, one of the other six English teachers. Flushed and concerned, I explained the situation to her as other teachers cast curious glances at this overwrought foreigner. She calmed me, saying that they knew about it and, the student was correct, they would be sending it to a veterinary clinic.

Amidst all this confusion was the normalcy of another day at Dong-a. Conversations I will never understand floating around me, my name thrown in intermittently. A school working as a slow cooker to ensure all students and teachers are well done (the principal and vice-principal's offices are air conditioned, by the way). And then for good measure, the students (and teachers) who shout out "Aubrey, I LOVE YOU!" very sincerely, but it is unnerving to me nonetheless. I am usually left in a state of surprised speechlessness, a great feat indeed. I have tried responding in a variety of ways, but none have sounded quite right. The Korean "Sarang hey-yo" ("I love you") was out of the question because, frankly, it gives the wrong impression. This impression being that same somewhat creepy, overly uncomfortable feeling I get when inappropriately told that they love me. But I didn't want to just remain silent and make them feel totally stupid. So at first I kept saying, "Uh, thank you!" I also pragmatically tested the rather philosophical approach, "Really? Love? How do we really know what 'love' is?" Then today after the deer incident, I was struck with an ingenious thought. When one of my students who daily yells, "Teacher, I love you!" again repeated this now familiar act, I, in a very Brian Regan-like manner, said, "Uh... YOU TOO!" That way it was sort of a reciprocal response to my student, but gave me the lighthearted humor I needed in it. Few of you will understand this reference, unless you are familiar with the comedian Brian Regan. If you are not, you should be.

So farewell, Dong-a Middle School. Farewell work. Farewell lack of air conditioning. And farewell Konglish. I'm going home.