Please Forgive Me
By Teddy Ajluni, a first year ETA in Gwangyang, Jeollanam-do
When I first arrived, it was too early to think about leaving. Everything was so new and exciting. You were all so welcoming to me. I was almost surprised at how few problems there were, especially for elementary schoolers like you. Sure, you could get a little chatty here and there, but you still showed a passion for learning—much more than I did at your age—and it gave me the passion to keep teaching. There were few times when I felt bored with my work, and those moments were so few thanks to your energy. I can only hope you felt the same during class, though I know that’s impossible. Having sat in your seat once, I know there were times when you must have been bored. Either way, you were patient with me, just as I was with you. It was all too exciting, too good to be true.
Now I’m looking at the prospect right in the face: I have to leave. It’s a little strange thinking about it. I still have some time before I must go, but I know how quickly that will pass. I remember the days when such a span of time would feel like half of my life. I guess it really was half of my life back then. While I’ve known you for almost 10 percent of your life, you’ve only been there for a tiny fraction of mine.
The odd part about it is, I know deep inside that it will feel like the other way around. Yes, you’ve only been there for a fraction of my life, but this episode will live with me forever. Meanwhile, while I’ve been there for so much of yours, I will slowly fade away. It might hurt for you at first, but I know what is likely to happen after that. It happened to me too. The portion of your life that I was with you will shrink smaller and smaller until it is almost nothing. I will become nothing but a memory—fuzzy and intangible—slowly morphing here and there in the recesses of your mind until you only recall half of my face or the sound of my name. You might even forget me altogether, and I would not blame you at all.
Whether or not you forget me, I have to thank you for something. It’s not the behavior or the positive attitude I mentioned before, though I appreciate all those things. In fact, you might not even remember it, but it was when you answered a question of mine and returned something I didn’t even know I needed. You see, thinking about leaving made me ask why I came here in the first place. What was I seeking? What did I hope to find? There are answers to those questions, but now I know they’re not the right questions to ask. The real question to ask was this: what was I running from? Someone told me once that everyone’s running from something. I wasn’t sure what to think about it at first, but now I know that they’re right. I was running, and I still am. But you answered that question for me. And it wasn’t until you showed me what I was running towards that I found out what I was running from.
I still remember the day you helped me discover why I was running. I had to go grocery shopping and I didn’t want to spend too long getting to the bus stop after work. Then a couple of you spotted me.
“Do you play PoGo?”
Pokémon Go. You said it in Korean, but some of you know as well as I do that the language of the Pokémon Trainer is universal. Despite my lack of language skills, I knew what you meant. I took out my phone and laughed. Of course I played. That game came out when I was in high school. And now, as all my friends seemed to outgrow it, they left me behind, stuck in my augmented reality. As time went on though, even I began to play it less. But it was still there on my phone, right where I left it.
So I told you yes, I do play it. I opened the app and showed you. You were all amazed, even though some of you were a higher level than I was and knew much more about the game. It was funny to watch. Of course, I had a lot of the old Pokémon. Maybe that’s why you were so amazed. But you had a lot of the new ones, ones that I’m sad to admit I didn’t even know existed.
“Raid,” one of you said, pointing at the virtual map. I looked. There it was. A five-star Raid Boss. Dialga. I hadn’t gotten it yet. Neither had any of you.
“Come with us?” one of you asked me.
Hearing such a question with such sincerity almost made me laugh. Or did it almost make me cry? I don’t know, but I smiled either way. No one had asked me to play for so long. Without even knowing it, I realized that it was the offer that I’d been waiting to hear for so many years. And now, it was being extended.
“Yes!” Almost as if my subconscious were answering for me, I didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go!”
You echoed me in excitement.
So, we ran together. We ran towards Dialga. And that’s when I knew what I was running towards. Dialga, #483 in the National Pokédex. It’s a Steel/Dragon-type Legendary from Sinnoh. You can catch one, but only one, at Spear Pillar in Pokémon Diamond and Platinum. If you want to get it in Pearl, then you have to trade. In Pokémon Go, it doesn’t work like that. You can catch a lot, as long as you beat them in a Raid Battle first. But most of you already know all this. What you might not have known is that I needed to have it just as much as you did.
We made it to the Raid location. It’s right next to most of your apartments. I remember thinking how lucky you guys were. You wouldn’t have even had to roll out of bed to join a Raid if you wanted to. There were four of you with me. A few more people were also in the virtual waiting room. After 25 seconds, it began.
I was tapping on that phone screen so furiously in order to land some damage on the Raid Boss. So were all of you. Looking at how quickly we were slamming our fingers into the screen, I thought our phones might break. I swiped this way and that, trying to avoid its attacks. I must have gone through almost 10 of my Pokémon in that battle. You also lost a lot. But we could heal them later. In the end, we beat the Raid Boss, and that’s what mattered. That’s why we were cheering, giving high fives. But we weren’t out of the dark just yet. Now was the moment of truth. How many Premier Balls—chances—would we get to try and catch it? Thankfully, I got 12. I began throwing curve balls, my palms sweating as I waited to see if it would catch.
Twelve, eleven, ten—one of you caught yours! We cheered wildly—nine, eight, seven—another one! Even though you wore a mask, I still saw the smile on your face—six, five, four…
All of you had caught yours. Mine kept escaping, though. This couldn’t be happening. I needed Dialga. All of you were gathered around me, leaning next to me, sticking your heads in a circle around my phone. Three more tries left. The third one went. It shook once. It shook twice. My heart was racing, my fingers were crossed. Then, it escaped. Down to two more tries. I could almost feel the sweat dripping down my forehead. I threw my next Pokéball. Curve ball! Great throw! It had to be this time.
It shook once. It shook twice. And then, after shaking three times, we heard the click. Dialga was added to my Pokédex. We went wild. We were pumping our fists, screaming into the springtime sky. Some of you were jumping around in giddy excitement. There were high fives all around. I didn’t care that I didn’t have my groceries. Now I had something far better. I hadn’t had that much fun in so long—not playing Pokémon Go. I smiled so much that day and every day we played PoGo since.
So, that is what I was running to. Dialga. But what was I running from? What is the opposite of Dialga? As a Pokémon Master, I should have known that the answer was clearly Palkia. That is Dialga’s arch rival in the video games after all. But now, grown up a little, I know that it’s not that simple. No, it’s not Darkrai, and it’s not Giratina either. It’s not any of those things. In fact, it’s not even another Pokémon.
In the midst of our screams, our cheering, our fist pumps and jumps, time froze for me. I looked at Dialga. #483, sitting on my screen. And then, I turned around. Even though I couldn’t see it at all, I knew what I was looking at. Though I was looking behind me, I was looking at the days ahead. The life ahead. What would I do? What would I become? What comes next? I’ve asked a lot of questions in this letter to you, but those are the very things that I run from. Questions. Uncertainty.
But when I spend those moments with all of you, the uncertainty doesn’t matter to me anymore. You take me to a place that I thought would be forever inaccessible once I left it. You take me back to a time when those questions that I run from didn’t exist. You take me back to a time where I can look at my phone screen and Dialga is there, roaring in all its blue and silver glory, as we cheer and cheer in a kind of simple happiness that’s unknown to many my age.
Even though some of you have already asked me if I will stay next year, I have to go. I have to return and answer those questions, as much as I don’t want to. I wish I could stay here, I do. But there are other things and other people in my life, and I need to think of them too. Even so, leaving for those things feels like it’s at your expense. Every year, for the past three years, you’ve had to meet a new 원어민 1 like me. Though we all have our own reasons for leaving, I can see how it might be hard for you. We get to know you so well, and you have to put lots of effort into knowing us well too. And then we leave. Just like that.
I want to tell you that it’s not because of you. You mean the world to me, and I’m sure you meant the world to every 원어민 2 before me. Though I may be many years older, I’m still growing just like you—and you were a part of that growth. I’ll never forget those moments of joy you gave me. And, of course, I’ll never forget your greatest gift: Dialga. Dialga, Dialga. Though I have received many gifts this year, that might be the greatest one. Because no one else could give me that. Even though I must return to America and face those uncertainties I’ve been running from, I will be able to do so while holding on to what you gave me.
One day, you will find out for yourselves what the opposite of Dialga is, and the memories you’ve shared with me will become insignificant in comparison. Just know that I will be out there, somewhere, rooting for you. And I hope that you will meet young heroes like yourselves, ones that return Dialga to you when you’ve forgotten it or thought it was lost forever. I wish I could be that person, just as you were for me, but one day you’ll understand that I already can’t. It’s a special power that only you have, but you’ll lose it too.
Despite what I think might happen, I hope that you will not forget me, just as I will never forget each and every one of you. Because every time I open my phone to see that blue dragon roar, I will have a reason to smile.
I have to go now.
Thank you,
원어민 쌤 3
[Featured photo by Miranda Magaña]