EFL Stories: Uranus

I’m not sure where it all came from, but something inside of my head just snapped the moment I was handed the microphone. Do it. No one’s gonna know. 

There were approximately two dozen of us foreign teachers on a stage looking out into a sea of Korean faces, and it was my turn to say goodbye to the middle school students I had taught for the previous four weeks. They were part of a biannual intensive English camp Tara and I endured most of the years we lived in South Korea. 

The particular group of campers I was readying myself to speak to were participants during the balmy month of August when Korean public schools typically scheduled their summer breaks. Each camp had its own theme related to class names, and this summer’s theme was planets in the solar system.

I stood and walked towards the crowd of English learners and their parents. The lights were bright but not unbearable. I could make out some individual faces in the mass of people. I focused on a couple of especially unruly kids and began speaking.

“Saturn class, I’m so proud of you. You all worked so hard, and your English really improved while you were at camp.” A couple of cheers and claps came from the seven students I had just addressed.

Thus far, my goodbye was very much in line with what some of my colleagues had just recited to their homeroom students–very safe and somewhat generic fluff. If I was going to make my move, I’d have to organically branch out and talk about the other classes.

I walked towards another area of the stage. “Yes, I had a great time teaching you, but there were other classes I had the pleasure of meeting–like Mercury class! I had so much fun with you guys in the English Only Zone’s situation English.” A few additional claps from the students belonging to a class I interacted with for about four hours a week in the purpose-built, fabricated situation area on the first floor of our five story building. Now, do it now.

“And of course, there was my special science class, Uranus. Let me tell you, I had so much fun being in Uranus…class. Once we got going with our experiments, I just couldn’t wait to get back into Uranus…class. I know that I will always have great memories from this camp, but some of the best memories will be from being in Uranus. Thank you, all.”

When it was apparent to the audience that I had finished my goodbye speech, the crowd responded in the same, polite round of applause they had used for the four instructors who spoke before me. Safe.

Was my attempt at humor crude, immature, and potentially insensitive? Yes, it definitely was. But, the reactions I saw on the faces of my coworkers made it worthwhile. 

When I turned back toward them, I could see a handful of native English speakers coughing instead of laughing. Their eyes seemed to tick back and forth like they were trying to make sure they hadn’t given anything away. Others doubled over and were biting into the palms of their hands. And still others had given up the farce entirely. They laughed out loud and clapped with the unsuspecting non-native English speakers. I’m guessing they were hoping to drown out their unchecked amusement. 

It took the next speaker a few moments to wipe at his eyes and compose himself before he could deliver his own farewell. I can’t clearly remember how he started his address, but I do recall how he closed it. 

“While I wasn’t fortunate enough to be in Uranus myself, it sounds like it would have been sure bliss. Luke’s words a few moments made me feel like we were all there…in Uranus. It’s been a pleasure. Thank you.”

More prevalent laughing fits erupted on stage. Semi-concerned looks from our Korean counterparts indicated further attempts at homophone humor may cause some issues. Wisely, no one else contributed to the fun while the microphone was in their hands.

After the ceremony, we completed our unwritten teacherly duties of posing for pictures, shaking hands with parents, giving words of encouragement, and making sure all of the kids were matched up with their appropriate guardians. Along with the usual amount of photos, I was given some socks, spam, and a few tubes of toothpaste from happy and unsuspecting parents.

Once the day of the ceremony inevitably turned into evening, the whole group of instructors met up at a frequented bar called Soundgarden. Each time a coworker recounted my innuendo-filled speech, someone would immediately buy me a drink. I drank for free for almost the entire evening.