No matter what kind of work I’m pursuing, I find I have an enduring interest in people and things that I associate with my first day on the job. Teaching in Korea has been no exception. The associations can be as significant as the kinds of memories that are created by meeting people for the first time, or they can be the most inane, minute details that just happen to engrain themselves into my brain for reasons unknown. I’m sure others who have been in comparable circumstances remember lasting impressions from their first day, even through the haze of jet lag and a complete change in diet.
My strongest first-day-lasting-impression was left by a student named ChokeSlam.
ChokeSlam was in a class that I would be taking over from a teacher who was leaving Korea to head home to America a week after I arrived. It so happened that all five of the students in the class needed to have impromptu speaking tests. They finished early, and the teacher decided to play a speaking game with them for the remaining ten minutes of class.
The game was Snake: one player tells a story, and when they say the word “snake,” the other players have to perform a physical gesture determined by the teacher. Whoever is last to perform the gesture is the next player who tells a story. The game requires spontaneity and improvisation in storytelling.
“Once upon a time,” one girl began, “there was a soccer player named…snake!” Immediately, the students in the class stood up and clapped their hands – the gesture determined by the teacher.
“Um, good job,” the teacher said to the student. “Everyone, from now on, let’s try to say at least four sentences before saying the word ‘snake.’” New rules were established. I didn’t know if the students were up to the task.
“Ok, ChokeSlam, you stood up last, so it is your turn to tell a story,” the teacher said.
ChokeSlam is twelve years old. He stands at about five-foot-two, and by Korean standards, he’s a little big-boned for his age. He often wears long t-shirts that advertise the devil-may-care swagger of adolescents from the late 90’s. In large, neon-colored fonts, they ask threatening questions like “Can you take the heat?” or “Do you smell what the Rock is cookin’?” I cannot recall what he was wearing on this day; my lasting impression comes from what he said.
“Once upon a time, there was a great wrestler named Shawn Michaels,” he began. “Shawn Michaels was known as the Heartbreak Kid. He was the greatest wrestler of his time. No one could beat him in the ring. He would…” ChokeSlam paused momentarily, counted how many sentences he had spoken. “Snake,” he said in the same deadpan, monotone voice he used when describing the main character of his story. The students jumped to perform whatever physical gesture the teacher had indicated.
As the game progressed, the students told all sorts of stories. However, they were all brief, self-contained anecdotes. One student sought something more. He sought to create a longer, more involved narrative. He was ChokeSlam.
“So, the Heartbreak Kid could be compared to the greatest wrestlers, like Hulk Hogan and the Undertaker,” ChokeSlam resumed when it was his turn again. “But the Heartbreak Kid was the greatest. He had a great record in the WWF. He would win many championships. One time, he…” ChokeSlam trailed off again, and his eyes looked to the ceiling as he began mouthing numbers in Korean to himself. The students’ leg muscles tightened in anticipation.
“Um, snake,” ChokeSlam muttered. The class jumped out of their chairs and put their hands on their head. The bell rang. Class was over.
It has now been a little over a month since that first day of observing classes, yet my memories of ChokeSlam remain. Of course, the fact that I get to teach him two times a week certainly helps; his antics did not stop after the first day. Last week, I was teaching the class the difference between facts and opinions, and given my history with debate and argument, I decided to assign homework that would cause the students to look at facts and opinions in a very rhetorical way. The assignment: write one opinion, and then write three facts that could be used to warrant that opinion.
Again, the class picked fairly basic topics. Opinion: Watching movies is fun. Opinion: Cats make the best pets. Opinion: Soccer is the best sport in the Olympics (all of Korea was going through “Olympic fever” at the time).
But not ChokeSlam. He was going to continue his narrative. Opinion: The Heartbreak Kid is the greatest wrestler who ever lived.” And ChokeSlam really wanted to persuade his readers. He offered not three, not four or five, but six facts in an attempt to convince readers of the veracity of his opinion, and he provided supporting illustrations to further demonstrate his point.
He does not relent. He does not give up. He will tell the saga of the Heartbreak Kid, for he is ChokeSlam, now and forever.
