Fulbright Korea Infusion: Volume 11, Issue 2

STAFF

I N F U S ION

Jai Ok Shim

PUBLISHING ADVISOR

Rachel Youngeun Rostad

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

MANAGING EDITORS

Paige Aniyah Morris Leeann Oelrich

VOLUME 11.2

MONITORS DESIGN EDITOR ASSISTANT DESIGN EDITOR PHOTO EDITOR WEB EDITOR SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR OPEN WINDOW TEAM STAFF EDITORS

PUBLISHING COORDINATOR

Thuy Tien Le Heidi M. Little Caleb Y. Lee Mara Guevarra Sharon Cho Han Yong Wunrow Melissa Kukowski Stella Chung Gabby Goodloe Grace S. Ahn Lisa Chang Jordan Ecker Janet Hernandez M. Soo Young Hwang-Carlos Andrew Moffa Annie Schaeffer Nathan Stables Kyle E. Wardwell Kyle Hall

Infusion aims to capture the diversity of the Fulbright Korea experience by publishing work from Fulbright Korea Senior Scholars, Junior Researchers, English Teaching Assistants and program alumni. We support artists in the creation of work which honestly engages with their grant year and their craft.

The Fulbright Program aims to increase mutual understanding between the people of the United States and other countries through cultural and educational exchanges.

STAFF Jai Ok Shim

PUBLISHING ADVISOR

Rachel Youngeun Rostad

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Paige Aniyah Morris Leeann Oelrich

MANAGING EDITORS

Thuy Tien Le Heidi M. Little

MONITORS

Caleb Y. Lee

DESIGN EDITOR ASSISTANT DESIGN EDITOR

Sharon Cho

PHOTO EDITOR

Han Yong Wunrow

WEB EDITOR SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR

Melissa Kukowski Stella Chung Gabby Goodloe

OPEN WINDOW TEAM STAFF EDITORS

Mara Guevarra

Grace S. Ahn Lisa Chang Jordan Ecker Janet Hernandez M. Soo Young Hwang-Carlos Andrew Moffa Annie Schaeffer Nathan Stables Kyle E. Wardwell

PUBLISHING COORDINATOR

Kyle Hall

CONTENTS

Foreword

2

Rachel Youngeun Rostad

Letters

4

Director Jai Ok Shim Minister Counselor Aleisha Woodward

Homeland (Ancient Ground)

6

Spencer Lee Lenfield

How to Eat Rainbow Play-Doh Charles Nelson IV

14

Open Window

24

Open Window Team

The Way Home

32

Bijou Nguyen

On Director Shim’s Legacy Paige Aniyah Morris & Infusion Staff

Marked Deck Rebecca Brower & Gwangeun Cho

38

44

Rowboat, Sarah Coldiron, Koh Samui, Thailand.

FOREWORD Rachel Youngeun Rostad Editor-In-Chief To the Fulbright community— Since the beginning of the grant year, July 2018 has felt like the end of the world to me. Not in the apocalyptic sense, but in the sense of old seafarers’ charts, where the edges of the known universe disappear into mist. There, cartographers would draw sea monsters, dragons, and fantastical creatures, a metaphor for the dangers of unexplored territory.

In July, we will all be crossing that boundary from the known into the unknown. Whether we’re leaving Korea or staying, this summer marks a time of transition. Fulbright Korea is in for a change as well; Director Jai Ok Shim is retiring at the end of 2018, an occasion we honor in our feature about her retirement.

How fitting is it, then, that this volume is so rich with contributions from those on the Other Side—those who made it beyond the end of the world, and now send us missives back from the frontier. In addition to alumni submissions for Director

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Kathmandu Valley, Preston Adhikari, Kathmandu, Nepal.

Shim’s feature, we have two pieces by former grantees. In “The Way Home” by Bijou Nguyen, a medical student’s elderly Korean patient brings back vivid memories of her grant year. In “How to Eat Rainbow Play-Doh,” Charles Nelson IV reflects on his marriage to a fellow ETA, and how their time in Korea still has a powerful effect on them today.

In a series of poems, “Ancient Ground,” current grantee Spencer Lee Lenfield explores five vivid images that linger in the mind like pressed flowers. “Marked Deck,” by Rebecca Brower and Gwangeun Cho, tells the story of a student with a knack for magic tricks, providing a glimpse into a unique school for North Korean defectors. We’re also pleased to include student work, selected by Fulbright Open Window Student Editors, Gaeun Han, Sooyeon Ko, and Hyeongdo Lee. This issue of Infusion wouldn’t exist without the support of current grantees, alumni, and KAEC. In order to ameliorate budget cuts, we ran two fundraisers, raising over 1,200 USD, most of which came from the alumni community. I’ve so enjoyed getting to interact with alumni through the Kickstarter and our feature on Director Shim. From our correspondence and reading their stories and notes, I know that when we leave Korea next month (or next year, or the next), we will be joining the ranks of an enthusiastic, caring, and inspiring community. Though I’m sailing into new seas, and there may indeed be monsters, I feel much braver knowing that I’m following in the wake of all those who came before me.

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From the Advisors of Infusion Dear Readers,

Jai Ok Shim Executive Director, Fulbright Korea

Another grant year is coming to its conclusion, and once more I am able to present to you all a publication of The Fulbright Korea Infusion. Volume 11.2 will be exceptionally memorable for me when I recall its stories, its art, and its message. As KAEC Executive Director, I have been able to witness the marvelous growth of Infusion since its induction in 2008, which in turn makes me appreciate the even more extraordinary growth of Fulbright Korea throughout this past decade. I am proud to have been part of the journeys that are recorded in each volume of this magazine and I extend my immense gratitude to current, past, and future grantees for living the mission of Fulbright.

As you will soon read, my time as Executive Director is nearing its end, but that does not imply my time with Fulbright Korea will also expire. This organization will forever remain with me during retirement…in mind, heart, and soul.

It is exciting to think that the next time I open Infusion, I will be truly a part of its audience for the first time, cheering and clapping alongside the Fulbright Korea community.

These past 40 years have been nothing short of remarkable for me. As Fulbright Korea continues to evolve, so does South Korea and its relationship with the United States. Specifically, this year has marked a very crucial time in ROK-US history, which is evident in the pages that follow. It is my hope that a stronger appreciation of cultural exchange and international cooperation is achieved by every single reader once they close Volume 11.2, because it is what will take our world toward the peaceful future we all wish for.

And so, please enjoy the newest issue of Infusion and also take a moment to acknowledge all of those who created it. From the editorial staff, to the authors, to the artists, they have all worked relentlessly and truthfully to produce an inspirational body of art. You should all be extremely proud.

Thank you,

4 Pathway to School, Clarque Brown, Sejong-si.

Dear Readers, Welcome to the spring issue of the 11th volume of Infusion. We have seen extraordinary developments this year, which could be the harbinger of real change for the Korean Peninsula: An incredible Winter Olympics and Paralympics hosted in Pyeongchang, two meetings between the leaders of North and South Korea in less than a month, and a possible summit between President Trump and Kim Jong Un. Throughout all of this, the U.S.-ROK Alliance continues steadfast—in large part because of the people-to-people connections fostered through programs such as Fulbright.

Change is never easy, but it is constant, all around us. Fulbright Korea itself is preparing for change; Executive Director Shim Jai Ok will retire at the end of 2018 after four decades of connecting the peoples of the United States and Republic of Korea. All of us who have benefited from the Fulbright program owe a debt to Mrs. Shim, whose tireless efforts have created positive change in the lives of thousands of people and strengthened U.S.-ROK ties one person at a time. These peopleto-people ties, exemplified and magnified by the creativity brought to life in this magazine, is what keeps the United States and Korea “closer than sticky rice” even in the midst of change.

Aleisha Woodward Minister Counselor for Public Diplomacy, Embassy of the United States of America & Chair of the KAEC

With confidence and optimism,

5 Only For a Moment, Madeline Kasik, Gwangju.

故 故土 [ : Homeland (Ancient Ground)] Spencer Lee Lenfield

Lisa ChangL

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Haenyeo, Bridget Harding, Jeju-do.

Memory is not merely personal, but comes into us from what (and who) is around us: in a word, heritage. So we each excavate what memories we can from the materials, accounts, minds, and bodies around us, even if those materials often thwart our best efforts to understand them.

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女 [노녀: Lady (Aged)] Innumerable years approach hawking sundries, back fixed parallel over wares— bloody century’s unseen retainer.

Jeju Market, Bridget Harding, Jeju-si.

I saw an elderly woman with a severely bent back, selling chestnuts for a pittance to a crowd that barely saw her. She looked as if she bore the weight of entire past century of this peninsula.

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格子 [격자: Lattice (Temple)] Decline representation, simply afford ornament where needless—delight where unseen mosses witness tonsured susurrations.

The geometric openwork on the doors and windows of temples and palaces has obsessed me. (I have an album full of pictures.)

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子 [양자: Quantum (Both)]

Indeterminacy holds greater information: three states (yes/no/both), limitless computing power, unseemly logical consequence.

I, too—

Embers, Erin Hutchinson, Jeonju.

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Yangja is a homophone for “adopted child” and “quantum,” two things which hold more information than should be possible due to the innate unknowability of certain properties.

復元 [복원: Rebuilding (Palace)] History denies authenticity fetishes’ needless luxury: selfsame ink recopying burnt tomes, ceaseless necessity. Remade ourselves, wove memories purposively, expensively. Remembrance, however dioramic, bests even palimpsestic disappearance.

So many of Korea’s most noteworthy historical sites are actually reconstructions, and people seem obsessed with the question of their authenticity, but that authenticity is beside the point. What they speak to now is the choice to remember when forgetting was possible.

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Gong, Tiffany Cox, Jinju.

Blood vessels can be unsightly enough that we try to make them invisible, but they return, like writing on the body. They too bear messages of a kind, and carry elements with a past far beyond a single life.

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[혈관: Vessel (Blood)] Starburst dappled across crabbed cheeks. Treated, salved, concealed; one shot unmasks. Decipher capillary scribbles, descry flesh’s lurking archive— centuries knotted here, three thousand li.

Spencer Lee Lenfield is a 2017-2018 ETA at Hwacheon Middle School in Hwacheon, Gangwon-do.

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4.3, Bridget Harding, Jeju-si.

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How to Eat Rainbow Play-Doh Charles Nelson IV

She asks me, pulling beets from the vegetable drawer on Big

Night In, our Friday night ritual, if I ever went to get the little shrimp out of the caves?

The question’s content is similar to that of her more

bizarre sleep-talking. It took a beat to understand that the

little shrimp in the caves weren’t relevant to our present. She was voicing ruminations, and I was plopped into her mind’s medias res.

I ask, do you realize how surreal that question sounds

without context?

Get the little shrimp from the caves. It’s not as though

I had been out on errands, and now here preparing dinner, dadgummit, honey, did you forget to go and get the little shrimp out of the caves? Didn’t you look at the list?

We had lived a little over an hour from each other

during our ETA year. While I never did go and get shrimp from caves, it’s not unlikely that we would have had the

experience in common. They were everywhere, those tiny pinkish brine-bombs. But, for the life of us, we can’t remember the Korean word.

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But, for the life of us, we can’t remember the Korean word

Hongdae, Bridget Harding, Seoul.

In her frustration to remember, she

reopens the refrigerator door and rummages for a jar.

As she searches, it strikes me that

from our time spent in Korea, neither of

back corner, the jar wrapped in a plastic

bag to prevent the shrimp essence from imbuing everything.

Sae-oo-jaot, she says, turning the jar. Her

us incorporated into our own lives the

pronunciation is rusty.

host-families. While she removes items

to myself. I realize that I’m unsure if my

host-families’ refrigerators, the towers of

She wonders if the shrimp go bad. I

refrigerator organization skills of our from the fridge, we describe visions of our

Sae-woo-jeot. I pause. Eot, I say, listening

correction is even correct.

translucent airtight containers, navigable

reason, salt is a preservative, so, probably not?

Model efficiency, maximum usage: those

jar out. For whatever reason, tossing the

utopia, a weaving mini-maglev train being

be damned, though. After all, twice the

despite the volume of food they contained. refrigerators were dioramas of the urban

the only thing needed to complete them.

In contrast, our fridgescape has fruit on

the loose, nothing stacked, and an entire

onion if only one could stitch together the

constituent thirds of several onions into a Frankenstein’s Onion.

She thrashes through some collards to

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find the tiny cute shrimp shelved in the

Meh, she murmurs, and throws the

tiny shrimp needles me. Rue-laden heart

number of the now-trashed shrimp will be

the number of their pen-dot black hole eyes, the abyssal specks that will remain, probably forever, staring at me in my Kafkan tiny cute shrimp nightmare.

At least now, we remember the word.

She cuts stems from the beets with kitchen

center of the country. I visited Ga-Chok Hwi-

the color is like lipstick a goth would wear.

a guest of teacher colleagues who invariably

shears, staining the blades purple. She says, She then folds a purse of aluminum foil

and seals the beets inside. In the oven, the

Gwon for bibimbap many times, usually as asked, Do you know Jeonju bibimbap?

She sighs. Gojuchang, she says. The

purse will expand into a silver pillow as the

Peruvian paste looks like gochujang, but

The salty cave shrimp center the discussion

smell. I massage the blend into the skin of

beets give steam to the heat.

on Korea. She recounts to me how she lived near the sea. On weekends, she would hop the

train to Daecheon. Her host-mother would ask her what she did on those trips.

Sit alone, listen to Tennis—that is, the

band, not the sport. She’d read, eat seafood, lay

out. Host-mother always smiled indulgently, but never understood.

I grind cumin seeds, raw garlic, salt, and

smoked paprika in a mortar, mixing in olive

darker, and lacking of the sweeter layers of the spatchcocked chicken, set the bird on a roasting rack, and then wash my hands.

Did we ever eat bibimbap together in Jeonju?

Yes! We met up with Mina and Luke,

Melinda,

and

Jenny.

definitely had bibimbap.

Remember?

We

Vaguely. I don’t remember Luke being

there. I lament, what a bummer we didn’t know each other better.

Yeah, she says. But, she notes, I also never

oil and white vinegar for a paste to make

loved bibimbap. Duck? She sighs a pining

in what I understood to be the gastronomic

radish. Those circles of mu kimchi—gah,

Peruvian chicken. Teaching in Jeonju, I lived

groan. Host-mom made amazing duck. The

Queen, Sean Blanco, Seoul.

I realize that I’m unsure if my correction is even correct.

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with the fat of the duck. Host-mom would

the English he didn’t know, he knew the word

host-dad wasn’t around she’d take straight

Finally winded from laughing, I ask, What

roam the kitchen talking to herself, and when

quack.

MSG and whisper jooooogeum to me, before

do animals say in other countries? I think

Imitating her host-mom, index finger to

She asks, is meong meong what Korean

sprinkling some in. Our secret.

cocorico is what French roosters say.

her lips, she motions to keep quiet about the

dogs say?

makes the just-a-little pinching sign.

about right.

chuckling. The first time we had duck, my

enters the kitchen. We bark meong! meong! He

were sitting at the table, and they kept saying

tail, and saunters away.

surreptitious MSG. She shushes, and then

My host-mom made great duck too, I reply,

host-family tried to help me understand. We

O-li, o-li. We were at the edges of their English and my Korean. Then, my host dad jabbed at

the meat with his chopsticks, and went Quack, quack, chicken.

She laughs, as do I.

I was doubled over, I say through a guffaw.

My host-dad kind of chuckled and looked

around in that Rodney Dangerfield whud-I-

say? kind of way. I couldn’t believe that for all

I reply that I can’t remember. Meong seems We continue to cook. Our golden retriever

snorts, looks at us like we’re idiots, drops his

Tennis (the band) seems the appropriate choice for background music, and she throws them on the speakers. As we cook, the

conversation becomes tennis as sport, as we rally our recollections.

Service might go something like, did you

ever eat kimbap from a Family Mart?

Station, Lisa Chang, Seoul.

Did you ever...

Do you remember...

But what about...

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They loved trying to see if I could remember the difference between the Korean for honey and dream.

Last Dance Tour ft. Seungri, Jennifer Kwon, Seoul.

Yes. Did you ever have naengmyeon?

I’d always get the words confused. We settled

God yes. But what about hoddeok?

Dreams, and so after that trip they always asked

Yes. Do you remember Gyeongju bbang?

Yeaaaah. Or congnammulgukbap?

I attempt an offspeed slice down the line: but

did you ever make it to Jeongeup to eat beef ?

No.

Jeongeup beef was unreal. I went there once

with host-dad, and once with my co-teacher and

my school’s music teacher. Both times we went

to this place—can’t remember the name, but

the roof looked like a cartoon toadstool. With

my host-dad, it was one of those silent meals, where we’d talk, but really the closest thing to a

conversation was him breathing loudly through

on kkool-kkoom and kkoom-kkool meaning Good

me at school if I had slept well by asking if I had dream-honey or honey-dream.

As we progress, it’s clear we aren’t playing

for points. No one is trying to blast forehand

winners. Neither completely one-ups the other.

We rally to the no, and nostalgically recount

food events. Even so, a friendly contest emerged.

For the one who had lived the experience, the challenge was to bring the other to that

moment; for the one who hadn’t, the challenge was to have the empathy to live the experience.

She says, I can’t remember, but were you

his nose as he ate and me sighing with how

there when we ate at Jagalchi market? The eel?

teacher, they knew English, or enough English

It was crazy. You wander around, passing

full I was. With my co-teacher and the music

No.

so we could have fun conversations. I think I

rows of live fish in buckets, and eventually you

time we talked about honey-dreams.

nervous. We went up to this guy with a tank of

remember while we were there was the first Honey-dreams? She asks.

They loved trying to see if I could remember

the difference between the Korean for honey

and dream. I had trouble with the kk sound, and

just pick someone to help you out. I was so eels, and immediately after we pointed to one, he had it nailed through the brain to a wooden board and was skinning it. I was shocked.

It was—she laughs, conflicted as she relives

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it—so good.

Discovery begat discovery, which is why by some

of Hook, when the Lost Boys teach grown-

James Beard or John T. Edge materializes on

We salivate, and the exercise reminds me

up Peter Pan to imagine his dinner, and the

giant turkey thighs and rainbow Play-Doh of

their collective memory-induced imagination becomes both the feast and ammo for a food

strange sorcery, a new book by M.F.K. Fisher or

our coffee table each week. She remarks that

I will probably never read a cookbook in the hours before bed to wind down.

In Korea, I missed the agency and dexterous

fight. With the smell of the chicken and beets

expression of making meals. I loved host-mom’s

hunger, we eat chips and salsa to settle.

others. I joke that she’s probably only keeping

and the memories winding the mechanics of The rally loses energy. The pace of our

groundstrokes become sluggish. We volley at the net, letting our legs rest, until we reminisce on eating fries together at some ungodly hour in a Lotteria across from Gwangandaegyo. ________________ The bird rests at a juicy white doneness. We sit, wait for it to cool, and we agree: these nights and conversations are when and wherein we’ve identified food as central to the us-ness of us.

In Korea, she began to read food writers.

We Will Be Okay, Bridget Harding, Jeju-do.

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cooking, but yearned to cook for myself and for me around to cut onions, since dumping me

would require her to wear swimming-goggles, the bug-eyed accoutrement which she presently

wears, everytime she walks into a kitchen for the rest of her life.

Maybe you’re marrying me for kitchenware,

she says as she slices an onion, storing the unused quarter in our onion ossuary.

It’s true that we don’t have lot in the way of

gadgets, and we often grouse about how badly we want a gas range. I use this.

Maybe we’d cook every night even without

the wedding gifts, I reply. And maybe since

I Wish For, Eunice Yu, Jeju-do & Temple Water, Bridget Harding, Jeju-do.

you’re the homeowner, you should spring for the gas range.

She scoffs. Do I hear someone asking for a

rent increase? She asks, brows raised to indicate wide eyes behind the swim-goggles.

Whoa, whoa. Ok. Pump the brakes. Put

it this way—I’m not marrying you because I

have a thing for swim-goggles, I say, pointing to her eyes.

We laugh.

With our second-hand and ersatz kitchen

tools, we’ve become patient and adaptive in our

cooking. Other circumstances drive adaptation, too. Similar to her eyes’ inability to take the

We sauté leftover sweet potatoes up to temperature. She blends a green sauce for the

Peruvian chicken and cools it in the freezer:

mayonnaise, pepper, white vinegar, cilantro, jalapeno, and lime. It’s not purely green, more white, only green by the jalapeno and cilantro

pointilistically suspended in the mix, the way tips of grass-blades peek from a snowy field. We

now know that if you cool the sauce so that it

almost holds, but then spreads as it meets the

temperature of the chicken, it’s drool-inducing.

We plate. We eat. We continue the mutuality.

onions, I have developed food intolerances, the

The room is incandescently lit low, and the dog

wear swim-goggles to make her feel better,

Did you insa to people when you got back?

sort that necessitate recipe jerry-rigging. I don’t

lies beside us.

and she, similarly, won’t let my food allergies

I ask.

a feedback loop, though, whereby one can enjoy

arm when handing things to people.

for the other. On Big Nights In, such as tonight,

claims—I remember some people said they’d only

become hers. In the adaptations, we’ve created food more by his or her ability to fill in the gaps we alloy those distinct culinary faculties.

Ha! Totally. And I’d also touch my opposite Me too! Do you remember ETAs making

use chopsticks and spoons when they got back.

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It felt like being a member of an addiction support group.

Well, I mean, we did lose a lot.

But that’s just a shift, right?

A Lonely Claw Machine, Sean Blanco, Seoul.

Yeah. Maybe not that drastic, but yeah.

We pause.

As she refills her wine glass—but not mine—

we list the rituals and nuances now hidden by home. No opposite arm touching, no insa-ing. I gently bring up our nightmare refrigerator.

Leaving Korea was complicated, but not

tragic, and the memories don’t so much exist

as they are arduously achieved. It’s a paradox, to commit effort into reconstituting what feels

substantial, yet is completely without substance.

So, we visit each others’ cities, cities that

No, ahem, pouring of drinks for others.

expectedly end up being all over the world. We

I touch mine and the glass, and the laughter

already done so with one another. We see Tennis

She huffs, and pours for me, touching her arm. comes, this time tinged with melancholy.

We mull it over, and text other ETAs for

opinions. Most don’t own chopsticks, some admit to losing contact with host families. One

explore, knowing how to do so because we’d in concert, ride bikes in Montreal, and text for no reason. We call at birthdays and births. We embrace at weddings and funerals.

After the struggle, what we have is not only

can’t remember the last time she had kimchi.

the joy of the strain in remembering, but also

afterwards. It felt like being a member of an

discern the flavors and textures. The umami,

God, she says. Friendships with ETAs

addiction support group.

Well, I mean, we did lose a lot.

But, that’s just a shift, right? she asks.

22

a sense of why we take joy in the strain. We

sour, and bitter; the floral, sinewy and rich; the

vegetal, brined, coal-fired, carbonized, and full.

Rainbow Play-Doh possesses all of these.

But as a meal, it’s deficient. It can be

sloppy on the plate. Rainbow Play-Doh only sustains us to a point.

How’d we even start this? She asks.

Start what?

This conversation.

We were just talking about Korea.

Yeah, but it was something else. She

pauses, thinking. I don’t know.

Does it matter? I ask.

Yes! she exclaims. Or maybe not. I just

hate it when I can’t remember.

Charles Nelson IV was a 2011-2012 ETA at Youngsaeng High School in Jeonju, South Korea .

These wedding photos were submitted by Jenny Wilborn via the Infusion Kickstarter campaign. The happy couple is Amy Fossaluzza (2011-2012, Hongseong) and Charles Nelson IV (2011-2012, Jeonju). They are joined by several of their fellow Fulbright Korean alumni friends.

Top picture: Kyle Ferrier, Luke Icenogle, Di-Hoa Le, Hogan Medlin, Emma Fisher, Mina Fitzpatrick, Tiffany Yang, Jenny Wilborn, plus two significant others.

Bottom picture, left to right: Hogan Medlin, Amy Fossaluzza (now Fossaluzza Nelson), Charles Nelson IV, Jenny Wilborn, Luke Icenogle.

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OPEN WINDOW

Open Window is a creative publication showcasing the English and artistic work of Korean students. We are currently accepting submissions for publication on our webpage. For more information, please visit the Infusion website or contact the team at fulbright.openwindow@gmail.com.

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White Night

by Min Ha Kim Wonkwang Girls’ High School, Iksan.

Submitted by Han Yong Wunrow, ETA 2017-2018.

I envy her gentle light.

I envy her beautiful aurora.

I envy the moon, the main character in the night sky.

If I disappeared below the horizon, I’m afraid people will forget me.

I’m afraid I will get shabby.

Even if it gets dark, I don’t hide in the ocean.

I want to give warmness of noon at midnight.

I just want people to need me.

I just want people to love me.

I want my dazzling light to make the moon be pale.

Open Window Student Editors Gaeun Han & Sooyeon Ko, Grade 2, Jeju Jungang Girls’ High School, Jeju-si Hyeongdo Lee, Grade 2, Seoryeong High School, Seosan-si, Chungcheongnam-do

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"As you can see, this is a colorful bird.

I think this bird is going somewhere. It looks happy, and it's smiling. Maybe this bird is singing (I think). I don't know its name, but I think 'Prit' will be a good name. 'Prit' came from a word ‘trip’.

Paper's color is sky blue or blue, but this bird is not flying. Because I didn't draw its wings (like kiwi bird). At first, I saw a snowman. But snowman is just white. I thought it's boring, so I drew this colorful bird. Maybe this drawing's title is Journey. (Cause this bird is going somewhere)."

Journey

by Seh-ah Bak, Masan Girls High School, Masan. Submitted by Eunice Yu, ETA 2017-2018.

우주고양이 (Space Cat)

by Min Ji Song, Chungnam Science High School, Gongju. Submitted by Brittany Galloway, ETA 2016-2018.

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Under the Water

by Yuhn-seo Kim Masan Girls High School, Masan.

Submitted by Eunice Yu, ETA 2017-2018.

"I put my hand into water.

Water is warm, and clean.

There are many colorful fishes.

They look like whales, fishes, and balloons.

I try to catch them, but they are so fast.

Red flowers bloom on my hand.

I feel that me and nature become one body.

And they disappear with a colorful aura.

When my hand is out of water, red flowers are gone.

I feel sad, but I think this situation is very aesthetic."

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On a Hot Day in April

by Seo-hee Yang Jeju Jungang Girls High School, Jeju-si.

Submitted by Zach Winters, ETA 2017-2018.

Although it was spring in April 1948, on

Jeju it was never warm. Regardless of age

was the struggle between social rightists

there was a disastrous situation where

independent elections in South Korea. At

and sex, there was a pitiless massacre. Also, almost everything in the town was burnt. It was so painfully hot for a warm spring.

Actually, this was the day of the “Incident

on the Third of April” on Jeju Island, which we call “4.3.” 4.3 was an incident that

occurred on April 3 in 1957 and lasted rd

for about 7 years and 7 months. Lots of

innocent people became miserable victims.

That’s why this incident is so regrettable and pitiful.

The background of this incident is

complicated. The first reason why 4.3 happened was because a young child was hit

and injured by a police horse. However, the

police ignored the child and just passed by.

This made people so angry that they began

following the police and throwing stones.

In response, the police began shooting at

people, and five were killed. One of the

and leftists about whether there should be

this time South Korea was occupied by the

military government of the U.S. and Japanese soldiers. Their inhumane attitudes can’t even

be explained with words. Lee Seung-Man, the first president of South Korea, regarded

the people of Jeju as “red,” or socialist, so he

declared illegal martial law and oppressed so many Jeju citizens. At that time, people in Jeju

had to run to survive, and many families were broken up. The genocide was something that

humans can’t and mustn’t do. For example, burying people alive, suffocating people who

were stuck underground, or holding a baby by the legs and flinging his or her head into the

rocks. Their behavior was so incomprehensible.

However, no one has been punished because of the 4.3 incident, and the victims of 4.3 have to live with their pain for their entire lives.

It is difficult for people to discuss the events

people killed was a woman who hadn’t

of 4.3 because the incident does not have an

standing there.

isn’t recognized by the public. For a long time,

thrown any stones and just happened to be

28

Another reason that caused the 4.3 incident

official name. The name “the 4.3 incident” still

“Not only is the history of ‘4.3’ significant for Jeju, but we also must not forget that 4.3 evokes the importance of peace, unification, and human rights.”

the word “4.3” was banned by the government.

So, it is only recently that many people could learn about this incident.

4.3 is the second biggest incident in recent

Paper Quilt: Dreamlike Advertising

by Hyun Jin Ahn, Masan Girls High School, Masan. Submitted by Eunice Yu, ETA 2017-2018.

Korean history in terms of damage to human

lives. The biggest one was the War of June 25th, the Korean civil war. Moreover, 4.3 was

a struggle inside of our country, but it was

also an international problem that had a very strong impact. Nevertheless, there are not

enough people who know about 4.3. We must

feel sorry for and guilty about the innocent victims that were sacrificed when this incident was covered up. Not only is the history of

“4.3” significant for Jeju, but we also must not

forget that 4.3 evokes the importance of peace, unification, and human rights.

If everyone in the world knew about 4.3.,

then the victims’ sacrifice would not be in

vain. In April 1948 in Jeju, it should have been so warm, but rather than beautiful flowers there was chaos and painful flames. We

must remember this incident. The history of

overcoming “4.3” is a symbol of overcoming violence and a symbol of the peaceful island

My favorite things: cat, flowers, pink, red, Chanel

by Yunhwa Jung, Masan Girls High School, Masan. Submitted by Eunice Yu, ETA 2017-2018.

that Jeju can now be.

29

Kiss the Sky, Boat at Rest, Illuminating Sunset, Water Softens the Shore Cornel Park, Jangdaehyun School, Busan. Submitted

by Rebecca Brower, ETA 2015-2018.

Incongruity of Night

by Jun Young Jang, Chungnam Science High School, Gongju. Submitted by Brittany Galloway, ETA 2016-2018.

30

MV Sewol

by Park Geun Young Wonkwang Girls’ High School, Iksan.

Submitted by Han Yong Wunrow, ETA 2017-2018.

In the cold sea water.

Who terrorized the young souls.

The promise to save them.

What made it so difficult to keep the promise.

As time goes by, the sea gets colder and colder.

As time goes by, our eyes are getting hotter and hotter with tears.

When we think of those who were in the cold sea water.

We send a row of hot tears.

I wish I could melt their freeze heart with my hot tears.

We’ll try put all the beautiful souls in the yellow ribbon.

Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince)

by Ji Won Kang, Chungnam Science High School, Gongju. Submitted by Brittany Galloway, ETA 2016-2018.

31

THE WAY HOME Bijou Nguyen

I met Mrs. Lee in my third year of medical school, three years out from

my time living as a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant in Korea. I’ve met a lot of different patients during my clinical year, but Mrs. Lee is

one of those patients I will never forget. Mrs. Lee was small and stout

with disheveled hair, white peppered with grey. Her skin was both soft

and wrinkled like fragile parchment paper. Her face was like a dried

persimmon, creased and wise with years of experience. Her eyes formed tiny crescent moons, and there were only two teeth teetering in her mouth. She was 100 years old and had called the ambulance because she was having trouble breathing. She was 100 years old, and her 70 year old

niece could no longer care for her. Mrs. Lee said she was sorry she had

called the ambulance, but that she was scared. She had no wish to be resuscitated or for us to do anything for her really because she felt like she had lived on this earth long enough.

At our low-income, inner-city county hospital, patients were often admitted because they did not have a place to

go. Mrs. Lee may have had a touch of heart failure, but her labs were nearly pristine. She did not

have a medical reason to be placed in our

32

Lush, Tiffany Cox, & Buildings and Misty Mountains, Preston Adhikari.

How do you return home if home is an ocean, language, and world away?

hospital, but was completely bed-bound, and did not have a place to go.

Her niece had cared for her many, many years but was unable to pick up her aunt when Mrs. Lee would fall out of bed.

With my limited Korean, I visited Mrs. Lee in the mornings and checked

in on her. I asked her the basic orientation questions: “What is your name?

Where are you? Why are you here? Who is the president?” Mrs. Lee would

reply correctly to all of them, with the exception of answering President Moon Jae-In rather than the American one.

She would sit in the hospital bed, smiling gently, and appearing quite

out of place. In a place where patients had IVs and chest tubes and

ventilators, Mrs. Lee did not need anything medically. She would sit in the hospital bed, snacking on the tteok her niece would bring for her, her hand clasped to her radio that played familiar Korean songs. She would tell me, “Be careful. Don’t walk too fast or you’ll fall down.” During my

time in Korea, I learned about the concept of jeong, an inherent closeness and connection that Korean people often develop toward strangers and

loved ones alike. I feel that I was able to experience jeong with Mrs. Lee. Though our interactions were somewhat limited by language and time, I also felt a strange closeness between us I could not quite put into words.

33

Mrs. Lee, because of her kind and grateful personality, became a very

beloved patient on the list. In the midst of rounding as we talked about

patients who refused dialysis for their kidney failure or refused labs, Mrs. Lee was a patient who made every member of the team smile.

One day I came in and found Mrs. Lee shifting in bed with her head

nearly off the rail. Her sitter said she hadn’t been able to calm Mrs. Lee. Mrs. Lee mumbled incoherently, and looked—for the first time that I had seen her in the hospital—very sad. When I asked where she was, she told

me she was home. I corrected her, telling her she was in the hospital, but she continued to say jib (home) longingly.

Worried, I called a phone translator to ask her, “Where are you going?”

“I’m trying to get home, but I don’t know how,” the interpreter translated,

and something physically hurt in my chest.

I ached, for Mrs. Lee was indeed thousands of miles away from the place

she called her home. She was in a place she didn’t know, away from her

family members. Her typical meals were oatmeal, green jello, a ripe banana, mashed potatoes—the hospital’s mechanical soft diet, a sorry excuse for

her usual sticky grains of white jasmine rice and ripe kimchi. Having spent a year in Korea myself, I remembered so viscerally the beauty of the

country, the respect shown towards elders, the smell of cherry blossoms in

Unity, Brittany Galloway, Demilitarized Zone.

34

Blue House, Tiffany Cox, Demilitarized Zone.

the spring. The plain hospital room blaring a TV in a language that Mrs. Lee could not understand suddenly felt so limiting, so small.

In the days to come, Mrs. Lee grew increasingly confused. At times she

thought she was in Daegu, back in her familiar hometown in Korea. Other

times, she fell out of bed or wound up upside down, trying her hardest to go home. A yellow “FALL RISK” band was eventually placed onto her arm, and

my chest couldn’t help but ache for the impossibility of ending up back where she wanted—no needed—to be regardless of how much she struggled.

The medical term for this condition is delirium—the waxing and waning of

attention in conjunction with intermittent confusion. Untreated, it increases

the likelihood of mortality. My team addressed Mrs. Lee’s symptoms with the so-called delirium precautions: lights on, windows open during the day

to discourage sleeping. Frequent re-orientation. Encourage visits from family members. Provide a one-on-one sitter. However, being awake more frequently

during regular hours only would make the time alone in the hospital that much more isolating, as there was limited staff—let alone Korean-speaking staff—to interact with her.

Working with Mrs. Lee reminded me of my life in Korea three years ago

which now feels like a lifetime ago. At times, I miss Korea so much that I

35

Side By Side, Emily Malec, Daegu.

dream of it. For a period of time during my first year back, I would wake up from

a dream about Korea with tears on my face, without quite understanding why. I

miss nodding my head in greeting, extending both hands to receive something, eating kimbab with my friends. Other times, Korea is like the pages of an old book

that have been soaked in water—filmy and blurry in front of me. I remember not

knowing how to communicate. I remember trying to find pieces of my home

in a place that I was trying to make my home. I remember first coming back to

America and feeling like I had lost something very precious, something very dear, that others could not understand.

In Korea, though I look back on the time fondly now, I often felt alone,

like a stranger in an unfamiliar place. I looked Korean, but I was not. I didn’t speak the language as well as I wanted to, and I was constantly reminded of

how “other” I was. I can’t pretend to know how Mrs. Lee felt, but I wonder if we shared similar feelings.

When I went into medicine, I wanted to help people reclaim their lives. I

wanted to help them find the best way to live. I didn’t realize that sometimes, in

medicine, it’s about helping people move on. Sometimes the hospital is a transition place. It’s about helping people die.

I wish I had a good answer for what happened to Mrs. Lee because in all

honesty, I don’t know. I ended my time on Internal Medicine, and when I next

checked her chart, she had been placed at a skilled nursing facility. I imagine, if she has moved on, her last days were hard. She shared with me her fears about

36

going to a place where the caretakers would not be able to speak Korean, where she would spend the rest of her days alone. In medicine, our straightforward goal

is often treatment, and with Mrs. Lee, the ending wasn’t necessarily happy. I’m not

sure that she found the peace that my team was hoping she would achieve. There was an inherent calm in Mrs. Lee, in her steadfast approach and acceptance of

death. There was something beautiful yet so sad in her knowledge that though she was surrounded by caretakers, she was very much alone.

I still remember her gentle smile, her resilience, her spirit. Meeting Mrs. Lee

brought back memories from my time in Korea that I had unknowingly tucked

away in the creases of my heart, making me long for the past in a way I never

expected. Mrs. Lee came to me in a place where I had so little time to think about anything other than the road ahead, not to mention feelings and longings from before. In my interactions with her, I found a beautiful duality of patient and

provider coming together through threads linked by the same culture, country, home—although in completely different timelines. In imagining a happy ending

for Mrs. Lee, I still don’t know if it was my way of creating a happy ending for her.

Or perhaps, something that is more for me.

*Names changed for privacy reasons

Bijou Nguyen was a 2014-2015 ETA at Janggi Elementary School and Uirang Elementary School in Sejong-si.

Bus Seat, Tien Le, Andong.

37

Paige Aniyah Morris & Infusion Staff

When Fulbright Korea alumni reunite, they

may reminisce about singing at the noraebang, having rice and kimchi for every meal, and

buying triangle kimbap at a pyeonuijeom.

Eventually, these conversations circle back to the person who has attained near-mythical

status among Fulbright grantees—Jai Ok Shim, the Executive Director of the Korean-American Educational Commission.

Whether at the KAEC office building or during a brief moment of downtime at a Fulbright conference, it is

not hard to find and fall into a conversation with Director

Shim. Somehow, she seems to

understand the particular set of anxieties

that Americans living and working in Korea

face, her advice and the anecdotes she offers during Orientation becoming eerily pertinent

mere weeks into our Korea experience. If it seems

she has mastered the art of addressing grantees’ concerns before even we are aware of them, this

may be due to the fact that she has served the Fulbright Program for more than 40 years now

and was once in a position quite similar to that

of a newly-arrived grantee in an unfamiliar place

38

After 41 years of innovation and dedication, Fulbright Executive Director Jai Ok Shim retires, leaving behind an unforgettable legacy far from home.

so difficult? Why can’t you change it?’” she says.

arrived in the United States to begin work as

responded with characteristic candor to her

In the summer of 1967, Director Shim

a Korean language and culture instructor for K3 and K5 American Peace Corps volunteers

who would be stationed in the then-developing country of South Korea. “Korea was really poor at that time,” Director Shim recalls. She

describes the quality of Korean life in the 1960s and 1970s as “miserable,” the country polluted and impoverished in the aftermath of the Korean War. Director Shim looked upon the Peace Corps mission with awe and considered

While she empathized with their struggles, she

students’ pleas for the language and culture to be made more palatable for them. “I said, ‘This

is our mother tongue. Don’t ask me to change it.’ I convinced them: accept it as it is and try to

learn rather than rejecting it.” To the students

who wondered, Why is your tradition so different? she replied, “Yes, it is different. But accept it as a different culture. It’s not your [position] to change it.”

Alumni from her first class of Peace Corps

the American volunteers “brave” for preparing

trainees have become respected professionals,

its growth.

renowned scholars who cite her teaching as the

to serve in Korea at quite a tumultuous time in Her first year in the U.S., Director Shim

worked for a training program in Pennsylvania.

There, she fell in love with teaching. She

remembers lesson planning late into the night, then rising at dawn to pre-write notes on

the blackboards in her classroom. She holds

fond memories of earnest students echoing

high-ranking

government

officials,

and

fuel sparking their lifelong interests in Korean

Studies. At the end of the training program that summer, Director Shim received the highest teaching evaluation scores and was invited to return the following winter, this time to the deserts of Arizona.

While she trained Americans in an

her pronunciation of new words, asking for

unfamiliar grammar, Director Shim also used

the difficulty of learning a language so different

Korea rare glimpses of a culture foreign to them,

Korean names, and even complaining about from their own.

“They told me, ‘How come your language is

the opportunity to offer her family back in

too. Through her letters and postcards, her sons could view the scenery and cityscapes of a

39

LEFT: Mrs. Shim’s 30-year anniversary with Fulbright Korea. RIGHT: Taken in Honolulu, HI with Senator Fulbright after celebrating Fulbright Korea’s 40th anniversary at the Intercontinental Hotel in Korea

country they had never visited. She remembers

passing of the baton. As the 1980s approached,

see ski resorts and other oddities new to them.

in Korea as the country experienced a boom

their eager questions, how excited they were to

International education, Shim realized, was

not only a chance for her to teach Americans about Korea, but to open a once-shuttered window into the U.S. for Koreans, too. These distinct cultures, she thought, could be bridged

and bettered through shared knowledge and mutual exchange.

Director Shim’s two years of experience

training the Peace Corps volunteers left a deep impression on her and inspired her to

continue working in public service, particularly on matters of education. “This,” she says of her

own time as a language and culture instructor, “is why I came to Fulbright.” After working as a Fiscal Officer and later a Program Officer at

the Peace Corps Headquarters in Seoul from 1969 to 1977, Shim first joined the Fulbright

Commission as an Administrative Officer in 1977. She later served as the Deputy Director from 1990 until she was appointed to the Executive Director position in 2004.

Her transition from the Peace Corps to the

Fulbright Program was not exactly a seamless

40

the Peace Corps began phasing out its program of

economic

development

that

launched

Korea out of its developing nation status.

During this transition period in the late 1970s, Edward Wright, then-Executive Director of

the Fulbright Program in Korea, approached

Director Shim about an administrative position with

the

Korean-American

Educational

Commission. If Shim accepted, she would go from overseeing an established program with

an operating budget of $5 million to assisting

a still-fledgling program whose annual budget

was a twentieth of the size. It was an unappealing offer, and Director Shim ruminated on the

decision for an entire year, resisting increasing

pressure from Wright and even consulting her

family before accepting. After all, the work

that the Fulbright Commission aimed to do aligned with causes she valued—education and

improving international relations. In the end, she says, “I couldn’t say no.” And, she adds with a laugh, it was a much easier decision to make

when she learned that much of the Peace Corps budget would roll over to Fulbright.

“

Mrs. Shim said that when she took over the program she felt pressure. As the first woman to lead the program, she knew that if something went wrong, and budget cuts cut too deep, people would say, “see what happens?” But while we were there, the cuts never happened. This wasn’t magic. The program didn’t run itself.

“

— Amelea Kim & Ben Harris (Program Coordinator & Executive Assistant, 2015-2016)

Conversations with Mrs. Shim usually feel natural, as though she is my grandmother. We talk about our families and jobs; she shares updates on the ETAs; I tell her about my students and all the crazy things they say or do in class. We’ve laughed together; we’ve held each other’s hand as we’ve mourned the loss of family members, friends, and colleagues.

“ “

— Laura Kennedy (2008-2011 ETA; 2009-2011 Orientation Coordinator) “Don’t Compare... This is just one truth from a rich experience with Fulbright Korea... Mrs. Shim is remarkable, generous, and wise and her advice influences me daily.”

— Margaret Mahoney

We cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for the Korea Fulbright program and the many grantees’ lives you have touched over the years. We hope you know what a deep impact you have made on all those who have been a part of the Korea Fulbright program.

— Laura Tschop Hobbins, Emily Durham Diy, and Rosie Moran Carey

“

Your vision for the educational landscape of Korea inspired me, and by the end of my Fulbright year, I realized that I had inherited bits of your vision and heart for this field as well. I can only hope to make even a fraction of the progress you have made in bringing understanding and peace into this world.

— Teresa Kim, Fulbright Junior Researcher 2015-2017

“

Today we are educators, lawyers, small business owners, presidents of non-profit organizations, doctoral students, parents, community volunteers, social justice advocates, and leaders in our fields. In each of these roles, our success can be attributed to Fulbright lessons and the jeong you helped foster among us. We would not be the people—nor the friends—we are today without you.

— Christine Arrozal, Aimee Jachym, and Laura Kennedy, on behalf of the 2005-2011 Orientation Coordinators

Director Shim begins work as a language and culture instructor for Peace Corps Volunteers in the United States

1969 Accepts Administrative Officer position for KAEC

1980s Appointed Deputy Director of KAEC

1991 Induction of the English Teaching Assistant Program

1999 Appointed Executive Director of KAEC

2013 North Korean Defector students selected for Fulbright Graduate Studies in the United States

2018

1967

Begins work at the Peace Corps Headquarters in Seoul

1977 Co-founds the Fulbright Korea Alumni Association

1990 Establishes the Korea Fulbright Foundation

1992 Purchase of the Fulbright Korea Building

2004 Induction of the Graduate Studies Program in Korean Studies for American students

2016 Announces retirement

41

LEFT: Mrs. Shim’s 30th anniversary with Fulbright Korea.

RIGHT: Anthony Cho (ETA Coordinator ’12) and Jake Owen (Executive Assistant ’12).

With her strong resolve and unwavering set

established the Korea Fulbright Foundation,

with the Fulbright Commission has not been

raised funds for the purchase of Korea’s

of guiding principles, Director Shim’s tenure without its difficulties. She has, at times, found

herself on the receiving end of criticism from her superiors—often men in high seats of power who resisted the hands-on approach she

Fulbright Building in 1999 in a move that made

Fulbright Korea the only commission with its own building.

Upon becoming the Executive Director of

took to her administration. A common thread

KAEC in 2004, Shim immediately implemented

has been her faith in the power of collective

review process. She had noticed a high number

running through her long history of leadership effort. “What I can be proud of in this office,” she says of the KAEC staff, “is that we don’t

have any conflict. We do everything together.”

As an Administrative Officer in the late 1980s, Shim, along with former Executive Director Frederick Carriere, spearheaded the creation

of the Fulbright Korea Alumni Association.

This community, she believed, was essential for

the spread of knowledge and the growth of a shared identity among the many accomplished individuals who entered and graduated from the Fulbright Korea program. In 1991, early in

42

which, together with the alumni association,

her tenure as Deputy Director, KAEC formally

a change in the Fulbright grant application

of early grant terminations in previous years, as

well as an increase in reports of Fulbright ETAs’ poor performances in their placement schools.

Director Shim decided to involve herself in the selection of grantees and personally read each application. Her first year as Executive

Director, she made a decision not to select the top applicant recommended by the Institute of

International Education for a teaching grant to

Korea. “I almost lost my job,” she recalls. “IIE was so furious about my decision. They asked the State Department to fire me.”

When pressed for a justification, she stood

by her call, maintaining that an applicant’s

for her leadership, service, and commitment to

necessarily indicative of their commitment

Fulbright Korea has become internationally

impressive résumé and networks were not to the Fulbright mission and the role of an

educator in Korea. Director Shim told the State Department boldly in her report, “If I’ve done

international education. Under her governance, known as the flagship program or “gold standard” among Fulbright Programs.

Fulbright Program directors in countries

a bad job, we [will] see at the end of the year.”

throughout Asia and the world cite Director

no early terminations or complaints of poor

director of the Fulbright Taiwan Program [is]

That year, she recalls, the program experienced performance from schools. She says proudly, “I

think we have done a great job … of selecting our ETAs.”

Throughout her history with the Fulbright

Program, Director Shim has developed several initiatives for the benefit of Fulbright Korea

grantees, establishing the famous six-week orientation and the summer Fulbright English program that provide mentorship, teaching

experience, and language learning opportunities

to incoming ETAs. In 2014, KAEC launched its Graduate Studies Program for American scholars to pursue degrees in Korean Studies

at Yonsei University. In 2017, the Commission introduced a scholarship award and long-term

Shim and Fulbright Korea as an inspiration. “The always copying my program,” she reveals with

a good-natured laugh. “He confessed it!” With

the announcement of her retirement earlier this year, Director Shim leaves the Fulbright Korea community both bereft and grateful for

the legacy she has built—one that has spanned

decades and touched several corners of the globe. Her impact can be seen and felt in the

lives and careers of the thousands of teachers, researchers, and scholars she has welcomed into

the Fulbright Korea community. As Christine Arrozal, Aimee Jachym, and Laura Kennedy say

so succinctly in their tribute to Director Shim: “We can only say thank you.”

Following her retirement, Shim

intensive English program for North Korean

anticipates spending more time

Director Shim has received recognition from

she is penning a book about

defectors to pursue graduate studies in the U.S. the J. William Fulbright Foreign Scholarship

Board, the Korean American Educational

with her family. At present, her experiences.

Commission, the U.S. Department of State, and the Public Diplomacy Achievement Award

Special thanks to Rachel Youngeun Rostad and Nathan Stables, who jointly conducted a sit-down interview with Director Shim for this piece.

Infusion was unable to feature all of the many photos and letters that alumni sent in. To find the full feature, along with a video about Director Shim’s retirement, please visit the Infusion website at infusion.fulbright.or.kr.

43

Marked Deck Rebecca Brower & Gwangeun Cho

“Can I go get my cards now?”

“Yes, you can.”

With my approval, Gwangeun leapt from his

seat and bounded up the stairs to his second-floor

homeroom, where his cards were stashed in his

desk. Practicing magic energized him, his eyes lit up anytime a deck of cards so much as passed under his nose.

The first time I had class with Gwangeun,

we played Pictionary and he drew the world-

renowned magician, David Copperfield, passing through the Great Wall of China. Much to his dismay, I had no idea who David Copperfield

was, so he assigned me the task of watching

videos on YouTube to educate myself. Since then, I came to learn that not only was Gwangeun

fascinated with the magic performed by world-

44

At a Crossroad, Eunice Yu, Taiwan.

Seoul’s Sky, Amy Hourcade, Seoul.

class magicians, but he also had a knack for doing

normal; with an ace, two, three, four, all the way

an active participant in more magic tricks than I

cards appeared ordinary as well, with a red design

tricks himself. It didn’t take long before I became had seen in my entire life.

Gwangeun returned with a pack of cards and

his black, velvet card mat.

up to the king for every suit. The backs of the typical of what one would find on a standard deck.

When I arrived at Jangdaehyun School for the

“Now, for this trick I have to use a special

first time, I was an outsider. While I knew that

each card has a special mark on the back of it.

that, like Gwangeun, each had a unique story and

deck. Magicians call it a marked deck, because However, only the magician can see the mark.”

The first time I became interested in magic, I was 10 years old and was watching a special New

Year’s program on TV while living in China.

Liu Chen, a world-renowned magician born in

Taiwan, made a regular coin go through a glass.

Then, he took a ring from an audience member and made it disappear. He told the audience that

the ring was now inside the egg. When they

cracked the egg open, indeed, the ring was inside

the egg like he said it would be. I was shocked at

I was working with a special group of students

identity, they all appeared to be regular teenagers.

The boys inhaled meals—heaping plates of food, mind you—so they could run outside and play basketball in their free time, the girls were crazy

about idol music groups like BTS and EXO, and all of the students had a tendency to fall

asleep in class from time to time. Gwangeun was no different, as he could devour two bowls

of 돼지국밥 in one sitting, and then claim to

be only satisfied at the end. More than once he’s dozed off in an afternoon English class, or forgotten that he had class altogether.

Staring at the cards as Gwangeun shuffled

first. How was this possible? I was curious and

through them, I was stuck in that position again

However, we don’t have YouTube in China, so I

was happening right in front of me, but I couldn’t

tried to find any videos on magic on the internet. couldn’t find anything. It wasn’t until I moved to Korea later that I could start learning magic.

of a clueless outsider. Something extraordinary see any of the “special marks.”

My mother came to China from North

Gwangeun slid the supposedly marked deck out

Korea when she was eighteen years old, maybe

on the table in front of me.

Chinese, so she was tricked and sold to the man

of its container and spread the cards out face-up “They look like normal cards, right? But, they

each have a special mark.”

As he began shuffling through the deck, he

showed me the front of each card, and then the

back. I was confused to see that the deck looked

seventeen in American age. She didn’t know any who would become my dad. I was born just one year later, and while I was growing up I thought

that my mom was Chinese because that’s what my dad told me. If anyone in China knew that 02 my mom was from North Korea, she would be

45 45

Freedom, Eunice Yu , Taiwan.

46

With that, the more witty and playful part of sent back, so my dad used it to control her.

When I was ten years old, I fought with my

mom. After that, I didn’t see her for a while.

his personality started to come out; the part that enjoyed arguing and asking questions just to mess with my head.

I studied Gwangeun carefully before I said I

Four years later, I was studying in middle school

was sure, and then he swiftly pulled the card I

she told me that she was in South Korea, and

of diamonds.

when I got a call from my mom. During the call, I was confused. Why would she leave her own

had chosen and laid it on the table. It was the 10 “All right, now I’m going to hide the card in

country, China, to go to a completely different

the deck…and find it.” He took the card and

lied to me for sixteen years. Two years after my

which was oriented in the same way.

country? Then, I figured out that my dad had mom called, I decided I wanted to live with her.

So, she came to China to get me and we flew to South Korea together.

“First, let me explain what we are going to do. I’m

going to have you pick a card, and then I’m going

inserted it face-up into the fanned-out deck, “But if I put the card face-up, it’s too easy to

find, isn’t it? And if I put it face down…then that makes it even easier. So, what I’m going to do is

put half of the cards face up, and half of them face down, and then shuffle them together.”

to find that card by using its special mark. So, let’s

When I came to Korea, it wasn’t what I expected

Gwangeun held the deck, face-up, and began

I could only speak Chinese and the English that I

pick a card…tell me when to stop.”

pulling cards off the top one-by-one: eight of

diamonds, three of clubs, ace of clubs, five of hearts, jack of spades…I let about a quarter of the deck

slide from one hand to the other before I said “stop.”

“Are you sure that’s where you want to stop?

Are you happy?” He raised an eyebrow, tilted his head and smiled slyly as he questioned my decision. Gwangeun wasn’t a particularly shy

or imagined. First of all, I couldn’t speak Korean. had learned in school in China. I stayed home for a month because I knew nobody and could not speak the language. Later, I came to know about

Jangdaehyun School. It was a school primarily for North Korean Refugee students, but there were

students like me from China and also students from South Korea.

At first, it wasn’t easy for me to get used to the

student; he was polite and friendly with the

school. At times, there were misunderstandings.

nervous when performing tricks in front of new

it in Korean as ‘sagwa.’ However, in Chinese, the

teachers and visitors at school. But, he did get audiences, and it was no different with me at

first. But as the months passed at school and we

spent a lot of time discussing his card tricks and

life in general, his nervousness gradually faded.

One day, a friend gave me an apple, identifying word ‘sagwa’ means ‘stupid’ or ‘fool,’ so I thought

my friend was calling me stupid. We couldn’t resolve these misunderstandings at first, and it

made me frustrated and sad. But after about a

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and he’s good to both my mom and I. Also, because my conversational Korean has improved

dramatically, I’m friends with everybody at school

and I feel more comfortable when I interact with other Koreans.

Gwangeun paused and allowed me to sit staring at all the cards laid out in front of me for a few seconds before he piled up all but the Holding Colors, Eunice Yu, Geoje. year, my Korean started improving and we could finally understand each other better.

“So, before I started the trick, I told you that

the deck was marked. Right? However, can you see a mark on this card?” He handed me the 10 of diamonds and let me look at the front and the back. I still couldn’t find any marks on it.

“Well, you can’t see the mark because you are

After shuffling the cards together, Gwangeun

not trained. But if you look at the king of clubs…

“Now I’ve made it harder to find your card,

Gwangeun picked up the first card in the pile,

picked up the deck again.

it’s easy.”

because half of them are face-down. But if I snap

the king of clubs, and flipped it over to the back

and then splayed the deck across the top of the

white back with a “K” and a club written next to it.

my fingers…” Gwangeun snapped his fingers, table once more.

Contrary to expectation, all the cards except

for one were face-up. He pulled out the one card that was face-down—it was the 10 of diamonds.

I’ve been living in South Korea with my mom

and attending Jangdaehyun School for about four years now, and things have become much easier than they were at first. My mom and I fought a lot in the beginning, but after I learned more

to reveal not the same red pattern as before, but a Then, he picked up the nine of hearts and did the

same thing, showing again that it was marked on the back with the corresponding number and suit.

“And the four of spades? Four of spades.

Seven of clubs? Seven of clubs…” The seemingly normal deck of cards transformed before my eyes as Gwangeun threw down card after card, each

with a telltale mark on the back in place of the anticipated and uniform red backing.

about North Korea I was able to understand

I still have some challenges making friends

There’s a new man in my life that I call dad,

magic helps me. It takes a lot of work to practice

her better, and now we have a great relationship.

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10 of diamonds.

because of cultural differences, but that’s where

tricks, but I like the reaction from the audience.

I can see how happy they are just by looking at the smiles on their faces. In another way, magic is my friend because learning new tricks relieves

stress. In particular, when I practice ‘sleight of hand’ skills which require no talking, I feel less overwhelmed by life in Korea.

Gwangeun slowly packed up his things, grinning

to himself as he usually does when he finishes

performing a trick to a dumbfounded audience.

“It’s magic,” he declares proudly. He has never

Color Festival, Eunice Yu, Geoje.

performed the same trick for me twice and

always refuses to reveal how he does it—save for a disappearing pen-cap trick that he said is meant

for children. Being as easily fooled as a child, as he would tease, I haven’t been able to figure out the

secrets on my own either. However, as I sat there pondering over the marked deck, it suddenly

started to make sense to me. He would never

Rebecca Brower is a 2015-2018 ETA who is currently teaching at the Jangdaehyun School in Busan.

Gwangeun Cho is a third-year student at Jangdaehyun.

admit it, but I figured out how Gwangeun had

hid the marked cards minutes after he finished the trick.

Watercolors, Clarque Brown, Seoul.

There are other tricks and things about

Gwangeun that may always remain a mystery to me, but the marks that I have discovered, both

in his magic and through my daily interactions

with him, are inspiring to say the least. I’ve come to expect his playful banter in conversations, his

argumentative questioning in classes, and his

almost dismissive responses when I correct his

grammar. In spite of his more defiant tendencies, Gwangeun continuously impresses me with his

adjustment to his new life in South Korea. I waved goodbye to him as he headed off to his

next class, looking forward to his next magic trick.

49

SNAPSHOTS

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TOP ROW FROM LEFT: Photo Taking, Rebecca Brower Beginning of Departure, Eunice Yu Homeland, Preston Adhikari MIDDLE ROW FROM LEFT: Pink Cherry Blossoms, Rebecca Brower Stands on a Sacred Street, Lisa Chang New Year on Fire, Elizabeth Beavers One Korea, Peter Goeckner BOTTOM ROW FROM LEFT: Under the Bridge, Elizabeth Beavers Snow Monkeys in Japan, Jennifer Kwon Defying Gravity, Lisa Chang Sunbathing, Preston Adhikari

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Fulbright Korea Infusion would like to thank the following individuals for their generous contributions to the publishing of Issue 11, Volume 2.

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The Creative Fund Robert Little Ashwin Malik Sébastien M. Blair McGregor Charles Nelson IV Jonathan Rice Mike Roderick Gerald Sutton Dalena Vien Kyle Wardwell Anonymous

Night Life, Tiffany Cox, Seoul.

Cover photo: Crossing, Melissa Kukowski.

Inside cover photo: We Are One, Bridget Harding, Pyeongchang.

Artwork for 故土 [고토: Homeland (Ancient Ground)] by Mara Guevarra.

Designs for The Way Home & Director Shim’s Legacy by Caleb Y. Lee. The Fulbright Korea Infusion EMAIL: fulbright.infusion@gmail.com WEBSITE: infusion.fulbright.or.kr FACEBOOK: facebook.com/ fulbrightkoreainfusion INSTAGRAM: fulbrightkoreainfusion TWITTER: @infusion_litmag If you wish to contact Fulbright Korea, please email executive.assistant@fulbright.or.kr or call 82-2-3275-4000.

The Korean-American Educational Commission in Seoul, widely known as the Korea Fulbright Commission, is governed by a board consisting of equal numbers of Koreans and Americans representing governmental, educational and private sectors. The board makes decisions on overall policies of the Fulbright Program in Korea.

The Fulbright Commission is not responsible for opinions expressed in The Fulbright Korea Infusion by individual contributors nor do these in any way reflect official Fulbright Commission policy. The contents of this publication may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission from the contributor and from the Korea Fulbright Commission.

Published by Asia Korea Printing, Inc.

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INFUSION

Fulbright Korea experience from Fulbright Korea Senior Scholars, Junior Researchers, English program alumni. We support artists in the creation of work which honestly engages with their grant year and their craft.

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Volume 11, Issue 2

Teaching Assistants and