When I wrote my first blog post, we had only been at Jiguchon for a few days. At the end of my post, I remarked that time would probably move faster than expected, and made a promise to try and enjoy each day while it lasted. Four weeks later, my prediction holds true. While it seemed at first that our time at Jiguchon would last forever, the final week approached in the blink of an eye.
In the week leading up to our final day, I felt an overwhelming amount of conflicting feelings. I was excited to work with North Korean refugees after leaving Jiguchon, since that was one of the main reasons I applied to this program, but at the same time I didn’t want to leave the children I had grown so close to. Even with an entire week left, I found myself crying at the lunch table one day with the impending reality that our time at Jiguchon was coming to a close (shoutout to my favorite student Brian for comforting me, and callout to Matthew for taking pictures of me during this).
On the final day, I couldn’t help but cry as soon as the final elementary school presentation began. Given my previous outburst(s) and emotional personality, this was, while slightly embarrassing, not unexpected. What did surprise me was when I looked into the crowd and saw four girls with tears streaming down their faces. After teaching Yunseo, Yuna, Sora, and Chinchin, they quickly grew close to us. They greeted us each morning and gave hugs to every teacher at the end of the day, even though they had only been formally taught by four of us. Sora surprised us with a drawing of each of us. While we laughed at some of her artistic liberties, I was moved that she had gone through all the effort to give us such a sweet parting gift.
Alongside the drawing, we received final notes from many of the children. I was touched by the heartfelt messages delivered through clumsy handwriting, with the exception of one of my high school students, who handed me a neat letter with perfect handwriting… entirely in Chinese (thank you to Valerie for helping me translate!). I gave them my own letters that I had written, alongside gifts that we had searched for in Daiso and Artbox the night before. When I handed my letter to Brian, which I had labored over with the help of Valerie and Papago, I received a letter back. Between the colorful drawings of winged hearts and sweeping rainbows, Brian had written a sweet and simple note addressed to “mom” (Matthew and I adopted Brian and also paraded as a fake couple – long story). In his note, he instructed me not to cry, but to smile. Unfortunately, these words themselves made tears begin to well up in my eyes.
Although I’ll miss everything about the school – greeting all of the children each morning, eating delicious school lunches, getting drenched by water guns during break time (okay, maybe not everything) – I’m comforted by the fact that we still have a plethora of happy memories to reminisce over. We may not stay in touch with all of the children, or our KakaoTalk exchanges may decrease as time passes (and with the hundreds of notifications I got this weekend, I hope they do), but the month we spent together will always be a treasured memory that we can look back on for the rest of our lives.
While I failed at first, I was eventually able to follow Brian’s instructions. As we saw the elementary school children for the last time, I said my final goodbyes not through tears, but a wide smile. I hope that I can continue to look back on our memories with a smile. Goodbye Jiguchon!
– Sydney Maynor
