Hello, My Teacher!

Hello, My Teacher

This Korean drama has been driving Leizl nuts for the past two weeks. It stars Gong Yoo (Coffee Prince) as the 18-year-old high school student and Gong Hyo Jin as the 25-year old Teacher Na Bo Ri. Yeah, I know, the plot borders on immorality, but from Leizl’s stories it’s very very cute and kilig.

Gong Yoo as a high school student. After this he played an ajusshi in Coffee Prince

Ahm, teachers are sooo not supposed to wear that!

ahm...

Teacher, can I see that? Hey! No toucheee!

And so, I came up with this. Same title.

 

Hello, My Teacher
by Kat Carneo

 
“Annyeong haseyo Chang sonsaengnim!” I greeted her at the corridor earlier this morning and she responded with a half-smile that lingered in my mind for the whole three periods before English class. Three times I got asked a question in all of those classes, and three times I was jolted awake from my daydreams with a loud “Choi Jeong Do!!!!”

 

Finally, mercifully, my awaited eleven o’ clock came and my dear teacher, Chang Kyung Jin walked into the room. She was wearing her hair in the usual tight bun, and her dark blue horn-rimmed glasses were perched on her small, button nose. She walked in in that absurdly poised way of hers, like she was gliding rather than walking.She was clutching two books to her chest, and I willed myself not to look there. I was first on my feet to greet her. She bowed to us and gave us the half-smile that has been driving me crazy for the past two months since she became our substitute English teacher.

 

“Okay, everybody,” she said, clapping her hands together. She had a very distinct, girly voice that would make you think she was 13 instead of 23. “I want to see those book reports,” she finished, and I froze.

 

My book report.

It was lying on top of the kitchen counter this morning as I was eating breakfast, inside a plastic envelop that I especially bought because I didn’t want it to be creased when I hand it to Chang teacher. It was there, and it is still there.

 

I tapped my forehead and cursed loudly. Chang-teacher looked at me with an unperturbed expression and merely said “No Korean, Mr. Choi, English only.”

 

She wordlessly collected the book reports and set them on the table in front of her. I knew she knew I didn’t have anything to pass, but she said nothing. She turned to the board and started writing. I found myself staring at the back of her neck where a light brown birthmark rested. I kept shifting my legs nervously.

 

I didn’t know how it happened, but the hour-long English class ended in just about five minutes. Everybody was already standing up and saying goodbye to Chang-teacher. She bowed to us and told everybody they could go. And then she said “Choi Jeong Do, please stay.”

 

I looked at my mates and told them to save me a seat in the lunchroom. Everyone filed out of the room. With trembling knees, I walked toward Chang-teacher and said “Did Teacher want to talk with me?”

 

“Pull a seat, Mr. Choi,” and I followed. We sat for a full minute, not saying anything.

 

“I see your book report’s not here,” she finally spoke, and I hung my head low in embarrassment.

 

“Im sorry, teacher, I left it at home,” I said.

 

I looked at the book reports of my classmates on the table, and I wanted to kick myself. Sixteen pages! And here I am saying sorry because I forgot those 16 pages I labored over the past weekend.

 

She leaned forward and I saw her set her glasses on the table. I looked up and saw the magnificent dark eyes hiding behind those thick lenses. She  looked at me with an expression of mild interest.

 

“Really, now, Mr. Choi?” she said, in a voice that plainly said I don’t believe you.

 

“It’s true, Teacher!” I answered back. “I have it at home. I-If you want to…..” I smacked my lips together, not knowing why they were so dry. “I can, I can go home and drop it off your house after school.” In my mind I saw myself coming into Chang-teacher’s apartment building and knocking on her door. Will she let me in? Or will she just get my homework and shut the door at my face?
“There’s no need for that Mr. Choi, I live too faraway.” And boy, she does. I followed her on my bike one obssessive Friday afternoon.

 

“But suppose I drive you home, ” she said, and I felt my heart stop. “I guess you’d be able to fetch it for me” she finished.

 

I walked out of the room and was positively leaping towards my late lunch. Chang-teacher is driving home with me—what an amazing twist of fate!

Part 2 here