Escorting my CLS host brother, Mingyu, to school early one
morning, I stepped out of his family’s apartment building into a light mist. Without
hesitation, Mingyu inhaled deeply and let out a shrill scream to his mother
four stories up, likely waking half of the building. Instinctively, she thrust
an umbrella out the window, opened it, and parachuted it down to the street
where we collected it after it bounced off a car.
It was good to be back in Jeonju, a laidback South Korean city
of 650,000, known for its food, cultural heritage sites, and friendly
atmosphere. One year after participating in CLS, I managed to piggyback a
five-day Jeonju visit onto an academic conference I attended in Seoul. This was
my fourth trip to Korea, but the first in which I felt I had a sustained
community to return to.
While I was visiting Jeonju, I had the opportunity to meet
some of the 2011 students and see my former professors again. It was just one week into the CLS language
commitment, and Professor Pak invited me to accompany her beginner class for a
lunchtime excursion. This became an interesting adventure, as the students
struggled to express their dietary needs to a well-meaning but bewildered
serving staff: two students could not eat seafood, one could not eat pork, and
the other wanted a meat-heavy meal. Making use of limited vocabulary, we entered
into a challenging discussion about what each person wanted to eat.
Negotiations with the wait staff followed, and the options were limited. In the
end, those who could not eat seafood ended up with eggs and rice, the meat-eater
was fed protein aplenty, and I was reminded why my Korean improved so much
during my eight weeks in CLS. This
seemingly insignificant event –ordering food – was such a mental and emotional
challenge that it has become a deep part of the memory of my visit. New words
and phrases that surfaced in the process of ordering, for me and for Professor
Pak’s students, will be cemented to that memory and remain with us each time we
use these new words.
CLS is unique in that it not only gives students the tools
to communicate, but it fosters an environment in which each student has an
opportunity to become a lasting part of the host community. This community
serves both as a motivation to continue learning, and as a venue for practicing
the language each student strives to master. On my return visit, I found that
the majority of the people who made Jeonju a significant place for me were
still there. Though I had been away for one year and had made no concrete plans
for my visit, I found that my five days were booked, from arrival to departure.
Highlights of the trip included a Kimchee-making cultural excursion that
brought me and other students into Professor Pak’s home, dinner with Professor
Yu Seung-seop’s family, and a night out with Professors Kim Byung-yong, Kim
Hana, and Seokan, my CLS language partner.
In anticipation of my departure, Mingyu selected “one golden
hair” from my scalp to be showcased behind glass and illuminated by tiny
halogen lamps adjacent to his prized Gundam MSiA (Mobile Suit in Action) action
figure. Reflecting on these experiences and the community that CLS has integrated
me into, it is evident that language is merely a tool, a means to a greater
end. More valuable than one’s proficiency is the manner in which one leverages
language to establish relationships, to experience and to influence others. CLS
sets itself apart not only by creating an ideal setting for students to enhance
foreign language skills but also by easing program participants into an
environment where their learning is bolstered by the relationships they naturally
build with members of the host community.
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