2005-2008Lindsay Herron

Lindsay Herron

ETA :: 2005-2008

Seogwipo High School

When you work at a boys’ high school, the laws of math are not absolute. For example, if you bring 1,600 pieces of candy to school for Halloween, and you tell 430 students they can each choose three pieces, you should have about three hundred candies remaining at the end of the day, right? Wrong! What this really means is that, while some students will select the appropriate amount of candies, others will stuff a handful in their pocket while you’re distracted; some students, sucking on the candy they just received, will move to empty seats across the classroom and pretend they haven’t gotten anything yet; and a handful of students will actually follow you to the next classroom and pretend to be a part of that class. How many pieces will remain at the end of the day? Answer: one, if you’re paying attention and if you downgrade to two pieces per student.

But let me back up. Halloween is my favorite holiday and, although it isn’t really celebrated in Korea, my Halloweens at Seogwipo High School in Jeju were nothing short of amazing. My first Halloween there, I received special permission to visit students during sixth period. My co-teacher warned the other teachers in advance of my arrival, and I spent an incredible forty minutes interrupting history, math, science, and Korean classes to distribute candy in my festive get-up: a sparkly spider-web hat and a giant rope spiderweb that draped over me like a poncho. I was met with exclamations of startlement and entire rooms full of grinning faces; a few boys even asked to try on my hat.

The following year, Halloween was a week-long affair in my classroom; and then, the day before Halloween, I wore my students’ uniform to school as a kind of warm-up for the holiday, to a wide range of reactions. The female teachers exclaimed with delight when they saw me, and the principal wheezed with laughter. At lunch, the cafeteria fell quiet as students spied me in the lunch line. Heads turned; conversations trailed off; and about half a dozen second-years, thoroughly nonplussed, refused to stand near me in line. During club time, one boy walked into the classroom, turned to ask me a question, and then just started laughing. Another sat down, looked at me, blinked in surprise…and then asked, completely deadpan, “Where’s Lindsay?” Another student asked if he could use informal language with me, his “classmate.” (I told him he could, then I asked in Jeju dialect, “Hey, what’re we doing?”) They loved it.

I could write an entire dissertation about the advantages—for teachers and students alike—of teaching culture and holidays in the EFL classroom; but for me, the biggest reward is in the faces of students. Walking home from school at the end of my first Halloween in Korea, I encountered a student who looked happy to see me. He said, “Teacher, for this day, very thank you.” And that was all the justification I needed.

this page & opposite page

Snapshots from Halloween in Lindsay’s classroom