Reflection

Kevin Lo

August 6^th 8:15.  The bus slowly rolls around the bends and up the hills.  Staring out the window we ride away from a home away from home.  In those last memorable minutes, the blistering reality of departure has finally hit me.  I was hit time and time again before with the good byes, the hugs, the kisses from our kids, but never before was it truly a good bye.  I could always walk up the familiar driveway to the dorms.  I could wave and smile to see them return our smile with a twinkle in their eyes.  I could open the door to our dorm to see the plain white tiles, the fans quickly circulating the air.  But those memories are now only memories.  Never will they be tangible truths anymore.  In the two very short weeks we have become family.  No.  More than just family.  I have become a part of their lives and memory.

          I turn to the five strangers sitting beside me on the bus.  In the three short weeks, strangers have become family.  Eating, sleeping, and living have allowed us to transcend friendship and enter a realm which few have entered in my life. 

          In the bus, I hear trite, cliché terms and phrases thrown around.  A I miss you.  A I miss the kids so much.  A each sight of our kids is just like reopening the scab.  Perhaps, I too am guilty of trying to bring justice to our memories through words, but there is no way.  No words can justify, their kindness, their true passion, their opening of arms to strangers.  Their love is intangible, unquantifiable, and unimaginable. 

          Turning back the page to my last few moments in Mu Dan, all six of us sit around the living room table marking our post test after a brutal water balloon fight with our students.  We briskly flip through the pre-test.  Post-test.  Never has time so short felt so meaningful.  The obvious brisk time spent with the students is equally matched by the enduring friendships made.  Seeing the front page of my binder I recall our first day of teaching: the ice breaker, the alphabet, the colors, the shapes, the numbers.  The basics of the basics.  It was a welcome to English 101.  I remember the early frustration due to their eagerness to avert learning.  I understood it was summer, but at the same time it was their choice to participate, and see us who traveled literally half way around the world to see them too.  I recall reminding myself: I’ll leave in two weeks if they don’t get anything out of my coming then so be it.

Wow how things have changed!  Within a couple days the students became close friends.  As our friendship blossomed, it was equally matched by their attentiveness to learn.  With a tweak here and there the classroom stopped being teacher and student.  Instead it became our place of learning where the lines of teacher and student became skewed.  They taught us about their way of life, their culture.  These lessons served to satiate our curiosity as well as construct a medium for us to teach them.  Instead of lectures, our classroom changed to songs, games, and simply chatter.  Time inside and out of the classroom became intertwined.

And then D-day came.  We were told at the beginning to have the students perform an English act, a seemingly innocuous 10 minute skit or dance which we could pull together in no time.  Then two days before we needed to perform we were told it had to be at least an hour or so.  Our faces dropped.  We all had confidence in our students.  Their improvement was dramatic.  Yet…  It would be another leap and a hop for them to put together an hour of spoken English together.  Scrambling for a play and finding nothing.  We decided to write our own screenplay for them to act.  A quickly written script was equally matched by our lack of preparation.  With only one day to make the scenery and practice their lines was seemingly mission impossible.  But once again our students stepped up to the plate and worked more diligently than I could have ever imagined.  Starting practice at 8 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon was not enough.  Their attentiveness to detail continued well into the night.  A late practiced began at 7:30 all the way till people’s heads were nodding off to sleep.  Their half closed eyes yet radiant smile said it all.  At that point I knew.  I didn’t matter if the play we wrote was a complete debacle (partly because I should’ve written it in simpler vocabulary).  It didn’t matter if they couldn’t read a single word when they went up on stage.  Their effort, their contrast from the first day of class changed me.  No longer could I believe I ever felt the: I don’t care about them; it became: I want to give you guys the world.  I was astounded for their ability to act well beyond their years. 

In the next morning the familiar school bell rang.  This time we weren’t in the classrooms; we were on stage practicing again.  Tips here, tips there; it’s show time.  Cameras armed and ready; I could see the students shaking in their pants.  At first reluctant to go up, but quickly their confidence grew.  Hearing them speak their lines with only a few stutters here and there, my heart swelled with pride and happiness for them.  The play wasn’t meant to be a show, but it was meant to be proof that they could learn English on their own.  And up on stage speaking the lines with such little practice was verification that they could speak English and speak it with pride.  In the end perhaps a cliché phrase is necessary: hopefully we did teach them how to fish instead of just catching fish for them.  Armed for what lies ahead I know they all have the ability to master the English language.

          There is so much more to say.  There is so much more that I felt from the people in Mu Dan that I don’t have time nor space to write here.  Yet the little I can devote I will say with the utmost conviction.  We walk away from a land unknown as family.  They opened their arms for us.  We felt the warmth of their hearts.  We gazed upon the truest and purest of people.  There is something special when you can actually say you made a difference in someone’s life.  And leaving on the bus I can say they did.  And hopefully I did too on their lives.  Devoting the majority of this reflection to the students I will also say those who took care of us for the two weeks were impeccable.  No.  More than impeccable they were loving and caring.  Responding to every need and showing us a taste of their culture.   At the end there truly are many cliché terms to use.  Friends are forever.  We’ll never forget you.  But in the end these are the only words to say to a parting friend.  Actions will speak louder than words.  Emails, phone calls, and letters are a guaranteed.  And more importantly I know that despite this was my first visit to Taiwan it won’t be my last because I will have to visit all of my beloved students in Mu Dan.  Their memories will live on forever in my heart.