Min-Ji

As much as teachers like to pretend to be fair and loving toward all their students, every teacher has a favorite. In this case, I'm not referring to a teacher's pet, possibly a student, per class, who answers all the questions, sits quietly, and gets perfect marks. Rather, I'm referring to that student, often from the very beginnings of the teacher's career, who remains fixed in the teacher's memory for the rest of their career, 100s or 1000s of students later, no student can replace that one.

That one for me is Min-Ji. She was in my kindergarten class of 4-year-olds my very first year of teaching in Seoul. When I first met her the only English feelings she could explain were, 'water' and 'bathroom' and 6 months later when my 1st year contracted ended and I headed home, she could speak in full sentences about how she 'needs to eat all the little tomatoes at snack time, because her friends don't like them.'

Min-Ji loved food. Everyday when snack and lunch time hit, she'd be the first to remove herself from playtime, and rush to the table, take a look at that day's feast, anything thing from cherry tomatoes to fried pork cutlet to dried squid and say, 'Ahhh, mashi ket da.' And everyday I'd tell her, 'Min-ji, in English we say, 'It looks delicious,' not mashi ket da.' And everyday, she'd nod her head and say something like, 'Yes, teacher, I know 'it looks delicious,' but this is food, not English.'

For Min-Ji playtime was different than that of the other students. She'd often play by herself. Not because the others excluded her, but because she didn't want sit in the corner with the girls and giggle over boys, and she certainly didn't want to play Yugiyo cards (a little like Pokeman cards) with the boys. She'd often grab a story time book, sit in my spot on the carpet and make nonsensical 'English' sounds. During class time, Min-ji could manage to stay in her seat, as long as the craft or lesson interested her. She'd often get up from her seat, walk into the hall way, get some water, or talk to the ladies at the front desk, all because she found class 'jami obso yo', boring.

Min-ji was also a little gross. During story time, I'd catch her sniffing her classroom slipper (Korean kiddies wear slippers at school), and when I finally reprimanded her a little for the strange social faux pas, she said, 'Sorry teacher,' and motioned with her slipper as though she were giving me a chance to sniff it too. She understood that my tone meant reprimand, but thought herself guilty not of being gross, but rather of not sharing the slipper that was giving her so much pleasure!

She also occasionally ate her boogers, and I would always discretely hand her a tissue when I'd catch her digging away at some treasure up her little nose. When I finally had to explain to her that we don't eat boogers in class, she said, "But, teacher, Jjan got." To which I responded, that I still didn't speak Korean very well, so I didn't understand. At this, Min-Ji's look was one more of determination than discouragement. The next day, in class, as her finger slowly met her nose, a light bulb went on in Min-ji's head. She excitedly raised her hand, nearly fell off her little chair and repeated, 'Teacher, teacher, teacher!" She explained, in her not yet perfect English, "Yesterday, Min-ji, home go. mom and dad, 'Jjan got' English ask. Salty thing!" I took this to mean that she'd gone home after our booger consultation and asked her parents how to say 'Jjan got' in English so she could explain to me that she didn't want to stop eating her boogers, because they were salty and delicious!

I often wonder what shoe Min-ji is sniffing today, and hope that she's still reading stories at play time because it's what she wants to do. But I fear, especially, in this incredibly homogeneous society, that Min-ji's uniqueness has been sucked out of her. But in my memory, she'll always remain a shoe sniffing, booger eating, always hungry, story reading individual. Min-ji.