Graduation

When I think, "Graduation", I think of caps and gowns, long-stemmed roses, flashing cameras, proud parents, and rich tradition. Imagine my surprise when not only was I told last night at 8:30 that I would have to attend my school's graduation today, but that I was honoured by the invitation. I'm a total ham when it comes to pomp and circumstance.

We trudged up the snowy hill (oh yeah, it snowed like crazy today...yet another freaky weather pattern. Nature: 3, Kimchi: 0) and entered the gym where hundreds of chairs were set up on the covered floor facing the gorgeous stage. Now those of you who know me well, know that I'm a sarcastic bitch most of the time, especially when it comes to the Land that God Forgot, but this time I'm being serious: the rich red velvet curtains highlighted the beautiful flower arrangements and proud podiums. The administration shone up on the stage, waiting, or so I thought, for the graduates of the third grade (akin to grade 11 or 12 back home) to march across the stage to accept their diplomas. I was pleasantly surprised and as I sat in a rather comfortable chair, I was actually warm inside for a change. Things were looking good.

Then the ceremony started. And the sh*t hit the fan. Let me preface my explanation by saying I have never in my life seen such a blatant disregard and disrespect for authority, tradition, etiquette, peers, and self. EVER. I was DISGUSTED. So what, pray tell, did I see? Let me paint you a Korean picutre...

Sitting in front of me, in rows designated by class, were the 420 third grade female students. Since they don't have the old cap and gown in Korea until university (which is not only completely acceptable, but also, I think a bit more appropriate, especially given that the socio-economic situation of most students is pretty low), the students wore their uniforms. Most of them looked nice (the uniforms are pretty nice): white shirt, vest, jacket, kilt, and appropriate shoes. But some of them, and as I got more and more upset, this proportion became most of them, had their kilts hiked up so high you could see elements of undergarments (honestly: hussies at graduation. And NO ONE said anything to them), coloured shirts under their button-down shirts, untucked shirts, tattered running shoes...the list goes on and on. I mentioned before that it was rather warm in there. But it doesn't matter...almost all the girls were wearing their winter coats at their graduation. Seriously?

Then there was the talking. Most of them talked the entire time the principal, member of the board, vice-principal AND (their version of) valedictorian spoke. The talking gave way to yelling, then to shouting, then to screaming. The kids were screaming at each other (from excitement: I understand and empathize with the emotion, I really do, but some decency would be appreciated) while the speakers were addressing THEM. I could not believe the nerve.
They were on cell phones, waving obnoxiously to family members, standing up, walking through the crowds, running down the isles, taking pictures, and, my personal favourite, standing on the chairs to get around their classmates.

I would have expected better behaviour from these students:

www.adventuremontessori.com

All the while, parents and siblings crowded into the gym. They too were talking: talking to each other, talking to themselves, talking on their cell phones, yelling to their children some fifty feet away from them. My mouth was agape involuntarily almost the whole time. Disgustingly, when the National Anthem played, though many mouthed the words to the song and held their right hands over their left ventricles, most were being equally as rude as they were during the remainder of the ceremony. Shockingly, no teacher stopped them. Talking during the National Anthem! My father would have murdered them. No one thought it appropriate to honour their own country and have the children zip their lips for the two minutes it took to do so. It was abhorrent.

About fifteen (of the four hundred and twenty) students were called to the stage and were greeted individually or as a group of three by the principal. These were the students, according to my co-teacher, who received a certificate of achievement. They were the only ones honoured on stage. The rest of the children received their diplomas in their seats, handed out by teachers who were also talking while the ceremony commenced. It seemed like just another day for them...the things I took for granted as being special weren't there, so I felt like the students, the school, the teachers, the crowd, were all being cheated.

However, I have to rejoice in the small miracles: the principal said a really moving speech (it was in Korean, but I could tell that he was moved. That's nice to see, especially from an Asian man), and the kids really responded well to the vice-principal, whose new desk is only about ten feet from mine. Parents brought scads of orchids and strange looking Korean bouquets to celebrate the accomplishments of their children, and some of the kids were really thankful to introduce their parents to their teachers. Parts of it (the pomp and circumstance that actually survived the invasion of the inappropriate behaviour) were really, really nice and I'm very glad that I got to see it.

I'm also really glad that my country, my province, my city, honours students in such a way that they feel like little princes and princesses for the day. They march across a stage or an alter, receive their diploma with honour, as it may be the only one they ever do obtain, and feel a sense of pride at their feat. I'm so thankful for my home today.