Hello, My Teacher (The Ending)

Part 1

Part 2

My heart was drumming so loudly I could almost hear it. I took my book report from the kitchen counter and stared for a few more seconds at Omma’s note, saying she went to the market. I was at a loss of what to do.

 

If I told Chang-teacher my mother is not home, will she immediately go?

Or will she stay?

That last idea left me somehow weak in the knees and I had to sit on the nearest chair. After a minute or two of quick, successive breaths, I walked towards the living room to face Chang-teacher.

 

She was still sitting down, drumming her fingers on the table. When she saw me, she stopped and put her hands on her lap.

 

“I’m sorry sonsaengnim, my omma is not home.” I said. I held my breath.

 

“Oh, ” she said, a slight furrow forming in her brow. “I, well, then…”

 

She’s going to stand up ang say goodbye, she’s going to stand up and say goodbye…..

 

“I, I’d, I’d like to see that book report then, ” she said. She did not rise.

 

I handed her my homework and to my surprise, she opened it and started reading. She took out a pen from her purse, ready to make corrections.

 

My, she’s going to stay.

 

After reading the first page, she looked up at me—I was still standing in front of her. “Choi Jeong Do!” she called.

 

“Yes, teacher?”

 

“Where’s that tea you promised?”

 

“Oh”

 

I wheeled around and ran to the kitchen. It took me a long time preparing tea because of many blank moments wherein I stared at nothing, thought of nothing, and felt nothing.How many times I scalded myslef, I don’t even remember. I was still floating around, and this was still a dream.

 

Finally, a tray of tea on my hands, I went back to the living room. I sat across the table and silently poured her a drink.”Here, Chang-sonsaengnim, ” I said, handing her a cup with both hands.

 

“This is amazing.”

 

“P-pardon?”

 

“Your homework. It’s amazing,” and she took the cup from me. She took a small sip, her long lashes washing over her cheeks. I fell in love with her for the two hundred seventy sixth time.

 

 

“Thank you, teacher.”

 

We drank our tea silently, basking in the awkward air. There she was, my beautiful teacher, sitting in front of me and slowly breaking my heart by being so near but yet so unreacheable. Here I was, seeing the very slim chance fate has given me, but unable to do anything about it.

 

“Did you know,” she spoke to her cup, playfully sloshing the dregs of tea at the bottom. “That Mun-teacher will be back on Wednesday?” she finished.

 

No. It felt as if my heart had rolled out of my body and onto the floor.

 

 

“Mun-teacher will be back?” It can’t be true.

 

“Yes, so that means, tomorrow is my last day as your substitute teacher,” she said, still looking at her cup.”I thought maybe we could have a little farewell party. I already got permission to have pizza delivered in class.” Her voice sounded calm and neutral, but her eyes revealed something different. They looked very sad.

 

“Teacher, I….”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I, I am so sad….”

 

“I would be if you weren’t.”

 

“I’ve been, wanting to say..”

 

“Hmmmm???”

 

Say it, idiot, say it.

 

“That you have been so good to me, and I , I thank you.” My brain has rolled along the floor, next to my heart.

 

“How long has it been?” she asked, as she set her cup down. “Two months?”

 

“Yes, only two months. Such a short time.”

 

“That’s the spirit.”

 

“Huh?”I looked up to her, and she leaned forward.

 

“That’s the way I’d want you to think about the next two months of your life.” she said, this time, her eyes on mine.

 

“I still don’t understand…”

 

She gave me a half-smile and I knew, if I fell down dead at that very moment, I would’ve died a very happy man.

 

“Choi Jeong Do, please listen to me because this will be quite long. I meant to say it in the car but couldn’t quite get started. I thought maybe fate didn’t want me to, but now I see what fate did is to give me a longer opportunity to make myself clear.”

 

The hand holding my cup is moist, my body frozen, my mind fogged.

 

“Two months isn’t such a long time, right?” she asked, and I felt obligated to nod.

 

“Two months from now, you will be graduating from high school.You will be a university student, and I am too. That will finally make us equals.”

 

“Chang-teacher….”

 

“And when that time comes, ” she continued, ignoring me. “I’d like to have tea with you again. But not like this. Not sitting across from you, but instead next to you. Not being afraid of geting too close, but instead talking quietly, whispering, our heads close together. Not here, not this place, but somewhere else where we can just be Jeong Do and Kyung Jin, not student and sonsaengnim.”

 

I didn’t know how but I found myself leaning forward, her face so dangerously close, her scent addling every rational thought. She spoke again.

 

“Now, the most expected thing for you to do is to lean over and kiss me.”

 

Her dark, round eyes shone like the stars.

 

“But you will do no such thing.” she said, in a whisper.

 

She smiled again. “Because you are smarter than that. You know doing that might ruin the wonderful things in store for us two months from now. You will not risk that for the temporary thrill of a forbidden kiss.

 

“What you will do, Choi Jeong Do, is you will hold on to what’s burning inside you, as I will hold on to the one I’ve been trying to suppress. And when the time comes, we can allow ourselves to be consumed, safe from the prying eyes of the world. But until then, until you are to wear that school uniform, what we must do is wait.”

 

She leaned back,took her pen from the table and put it in her purse. She was going.

 

“Teacher, I’ve been wanting to say…”

 

“Please don’t say anything, not just yet. ” She got up and bowed to me. “Thank you for the tea,” she said, but she didn’t look me in the eye anymore.

 

I walked her to the door, my body trembling with the pressure of the things I wanted to say, the things I wanted to do.

 

“There’s no need to walk me to the car,” she said. “Annyeong hikaeseyo Choi Jeong Do!”

 

I bowed. “Annyeong hikaseyo Chang sonsaengnim,” and she walked out. As I closed the door and leaned on it, I couldn’t stop myself from whispering “Sarangheyo.”

Hello, My Teacher (2)

 

After my last class I eluded my puzzled friends and went straight to the faculty office. I met Chang-teacher at the door.

 

“Ready, Mr. Choi?” she asked.

 

“Yes, teacher,” I answered, and I smiled a little because that’s pretty much everything that’s been coming out of my mouth these days:yes teacher, anything, teacher.

 

We walked together towards the parking lot. The wind blew her scent to me—she smelled of lilac blooms.

 

“Mr. Lee tells me you have some skill in photography,” she said, and I blushed like mad. “He says you’re doing quite well in your photography class.”

 

I tried to respond, but nothing came out. My cheeks felt warm.

 

“You are graduating in two months, Mr. Choi. What are your plans?”she asked, as we stopped in front of a red volkswagen new beetle. Her bumper sticked read Ewha Women’s University, where I knew she was a fresh graduate is now getting her Master’s degree. I sighed. My mother’s ideal daughter-in-law is someone from Ewha Women’s University.

 

“Going to college, I guess….”

 

“And?”

 

She opened the passenger door and I went in. I eyed her as she walked in front of the car to the driver’s seat. She opened the door and sat, while I had to bite my lip when her knee-length skirt was pulled up mid-thigh. The smell of lilac lingered.She drove.

 

I felt like I needed to redeem myself, so I said “I think I’m going to pursue photography, Chang-teacher.”

 

“Hmmmmm…” was all that she replied. She was focused on the road and I didn’t press any further. I sat there, looking out the window but not seeing anything because what I wanted in the whole world at that moment was to stare at the person to my left, on the driver’s seat, oblivious of my existence and my feelings.

 

“You live on Jang-du alley, don’t you?” she finally spoke, and I suddenly wished I lived far away because we were already approaching my street. I pointed our red apartment building and Chang-teacher squeezed the bug into an empty parking space just across the street.

 

“W-would teacher like to come in for tea?” I asked, in a trembling voice, never imagining she would actually say yes.

 

“That would be lovely,” she said. “And I fancy a chat with your mom.”

 

We walked silently into the building and headed for the stairs. I apologized for the apartment’s lack of elevators. She gave me her world-famous half-smile and trudged along. As we were approaching the fourth floor, I could already hear her labored breathing, and it was beautiful sound.

 

“How far up do you live?” she asked on the seventh. I noticed a thin film of sweat had formed on her forehead.

 

“Ninth-floor, Chang-teacher,” I said apologetically, and she sighed. Strands of hair on her nape were wet and were stuck to her skin, but I found that weirdly alluring.

 

Finally, we arrived on my floor. Without any warning whatsoever, she clung to my shoulder—panting, clutching her heart, and looking amazing.

 

“Do you see what you have put me through, Choi Jeong Do?” she said. And then she smiled. Not a half-smile this time, but a real smile, exposing the most beautiful set of crooked teeth I have ever seen.

 

“I’m sorry, Teacher,” I said, smiling as well, forcibly ignoring the electric jolt she sent running through my body.”This way, please,” I led her.

 

I fished my house key out of my pocket and she took a sheet of tissue paper from her purse to wipe her sweat with. I opened our locked front door. Omma always locked the door and just gave my sister and I keys so we would not bother her as she watched her afternoon soap operas.

 

“Come in,” I said, pushing the door. I have heard myself saying that to her in many of my dreams. She walked in and took off her shoes. I did the same.

 

“Please sit, Chang-teacher,” and she positioned herself on one of the cushions on the floor. I suddenly wished we had a sofa and not a traditional Korean living room with nothing but a low table and thin pillows. She didn’t seem to mind.

 

I excused myself to call my mother who is undoubtedly in her bedroom, watching TV. I went to her door and knocked.

 

“Omma, I’m home,” I said. “My teacher is here to see you.”

 

There was no answer.

 

“Omma!” I called again, and still there was silence on the other side.

 

A part of me already knew, but I wanted to make sure. My nuna at this time is at the piano academy, and won’t be home until nine o’clock. It seemed to me that I was floating in a dream, where things absurdly go my way. It was too convenient. I forced myself not to think of it, in fear that thinking of it would make the course of things change. Numbly, I walked to the kitchen, and seeing my mother’s note on  the counter right next to my book report, I felt like the world had really gone crazy. This can’t be happening, it’s too good to be true. Chang-teacher, here, in my house—it was too much for my puny mind to handle.

 

And, as fate would have it, we were quite alone.

 

 

Part 3 here

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

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The Admirer

One of my officemates–who is happily married—- has an admirer who leaves presents on her desk. We know it’s the tech guy who comes to our office once in a while. I decided to make a story out of it, and invented how it would end.

The Admirer

By Kat Carneo

  For Nikki  

A bunch of red roses wrapped in pink paper and curling ribbons greeted Nadia as she came to her office today. But instead of a flattered smile that is most expected of women, she let out a sigh of exasperation. They can’t be from her husband—no, Trey had already given her flowers this morning. Considering the scary price flowers are commanding this Valentine’s Day, she thought it impossible that Trey would buy her another bouquet, much more pay for it to be delivered. There is only one other person who could’ve sent them.

She sat on her chair and in her head calculated how much the fool had probably spent for his present. She joked to herself that she would have been happier if he had given her cash. He was a persistent one, really. He didn’t let displayed pictures of Nadia’s husband and daughter discourage him.

His name was Eric. He worked for API, the company that serviced the Internet connection in Nadia’s firm. Every once in while, when there are computer problems, a guy or two from API would show up and tinker around. Nadia was not familiar with all those tech guys, but Eric was the one she was able to talk with the most. Those conversations were nothing personal, just work-related stuff. But weird enough, one day, a flower origami appeared on her desk, which was followed by more presents.

  

It took Nadia a while to realize that Eric was behind all of it. It took two flower origamis, two stuffed animals, and just about ten million candy bars left on her desk in a span of one year. She wasn’t exactly sure how she knew it was him, but one day she just did.

A few days ago, Eric was in Nadia’s office doing his stuff. They exchanged casual hellos, and then Nadia recited the litany of computer problems that needed solving. The whole time she did not look at Eric as she talked. For some reason, she has been trying hard not to look him straight in the eye since she found out.

About two hours later, Nadia watched Eric in the corner of her eye as he started tidying his things up. He was going to leave soon and Nadia reminded herself that when he says goodbye, she’s going to respond but not look. If she absolutely had too, she would let her eyes settle somewhere around his chin.

Eric stood up and carried his backpack. Nadia concentrated on her computer screen, and a few seconds later he walked past her. She did not hear the goodbye she expected.

Nadia leaned back on her chair and followed Eric with her gaze. She looked at his back for a few seconds, shrugged, and muttered, “Whatever.” All she had been seeing for the past few months was Eric back view and Eric side view anyway. Never Eric front view. Never Eric close-up. And if he’s going to be all Oscar-the-Grouch on her, she didn’t mind. She thought maybe he was over it, and that’s just good.

However, Nadia was surprised when Eric came back to her cubicle. She barely opened her mouth to speak when he handed her a big stuffed duck and walked away. She sat frozen for a full minute,

“Darn, he’s still not over it,” she said to herself.

  

And now, today, the roses. It was funny in a way but Nadia can’t help feeling sorry for him sometimes. The little notes he left were really sweet, and in the back of her mind she sometimes wished those notes were read by someone else who would be able to appreciate them. He was in love. But so was she—to her husband. It was an old-fashioned one-sided love and it was weird to be on the receiving side.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Eric’s voice jolted her away from her thoughts. She wheeled around to look at him but he had already settled himself at the cubicle next to hers.

“Thanks,” Nadia said. After summoning enough courage to ask, she continued: “Are these from you?”

Nadia listened to the faint hum of the computer in the next cubicle as Eric popped in a software CD. She suddenly wished she didn’t ask anything.

“Yes,” Eric said, as he was quickly typing something. Nadia looked at the roses and took a deep breath. She was about to start the speech she had prepared.

“I really appreciate everything you have done for me, not only as the technician here, but also the things that I’m sure you know about. I won’t pretend you didn’t make me smile many times, because you did, and I am thankful for those times that you made me feel special enough to forget all the pressure I’ve been having in my job. “

Eric stopped typing.

“But I’m very sorry to say this. This simply should not continue anymore. Please believe me when I say this will be the best for both of us, most especially for you. So the next time you feel like you want to give me something, please don’t. I’m bluntly asking that of you. Thank you for what you have given me, and thank you more for thinking of me when you could have been thinking of somebody else.”

Nadia’s hands were already shaking at this point. She crossed her fingers in a phony attempt to stop them. Eric remained silent in the next cubicle.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Nadia finished, in a very solemn tone.

She does not remember how long she waited for a reply, but when he finally spoke, Nadia’s roses were already nicely arranged in a vase on her desk.

“Don’t worry,” Eric spoke in a voice that made Nadia feel strangely lonely. “This will be the last,” he said.

Nadia certainly did not expect his response. She didn’t think it was going to be that easy. She was mildly relieved but more puzzled.

“I’m leaving this weekend. I got a job abroad and this is actually my last day here. Don’t worry, we have a lot of other guys who could help you out with your system.” Eric continued.

Nadia’s heart inexplicably started beating twice as fast at this moment. She did not know whether she was happy, or nervous, or just plain tensed. She was suddenly thankful that the two of them were talking from two different cubicles because her cheeks felt strangely warm and she never ever wants him to see her blush.

  

“You may have thanked me many times but I’m more thankful. Thanks because you allowed me to love you in the only way I can.”

His statements were making Nadia feel sad and elated all at the same time. She knew he was a good man, and was sad that she unintentionally made him suffer so much. But she was also glad that he seemed to have decided to move on. She would definitely miss the surprises he brought her, but like what she said in her rehearsed speech, it simply has got to end.

  

“I won’t ask for your number, or e-mail, or even add you up on Friendster even though I have looked through your profile so embarrassingly often.  I’ve got your office address memorized but I would just tell myself that it would cost me an arm and leg to have something sent to you. And I hope in time I’d be able to forget your address completely—your office, your crazy computers and all.”

  

“It’s Valentine ’s Day and people all over are getting all cheesy, and I don’t want to be one of them but I cant help it. Thank you. I want to tell you three words that everybody else must be saying today, but I won’t. It’s just too darn difficult. But I trust you already know what it is I wanted to say.”

In her head Nadia apologized to him. She was sorry he fell in love with a person who could never love him back. She was sorry she had to be that person. He had loved her for so long and did not ask for anything in return. She thought perhaps everyone else would go through this phase at one point in their lives. She definitely did. And she knew that no matter how bleak or hopeless it may seem, a person in love can stubbornly keep on being foolish until such a time they choose to wake up.

“And one more thing, before I go. One final request.” Eric said.

“W-what is it?” Nadia shakily asked.

“Look at me.” Eric said, and Nadia heard his chair squeak as he moved. She turned to the cubicle next to hers and looked at the eyes of the man whose love she admired.

“What is it?” she asked again.

For a short while they were eye to eye, two people on different ground, but both understanding that it was love that once conjoined their lives. After a moment Eric smiled.

“Thank you,” he said, and then stood up and walked away.

  

-30-

   

02/14/08

2:05pm-3:44pm