By Cho Jae-hyon
Staff Reporter
When I was a senior in high school, which was a long time ago, my homeroom teacher was popular among my classmates.
Full of wit and humor, the Korean-language teacher was a storyteller. The soft-spoken man introduced us to the world of literature, movies, photography and various other art fields.
He effortlessly made us laugh. His class was far from boring. If we showed signs of being restless, he told us stories about movies or literary works. Then we, like Alice in Wonderland, fell into the trap of the stories he churned out.
Among the stories he told us, my favorite was about the Italian movie "La Strada" (The Road).
At the time, watching movies was not as easy as it is these days, and we were spellbound by his rendition of classic films. For me, his stories were far more educational than textbooks.
"La Strada" (1954), directed by Federico Fellini, is a story about a naive young woman, Gelsomina (Giulietta Masina), who is sold to a bestial but pitiable gypsy, Zampano (Anthony Quinn), and goes on the road as part of his street circus performance.
The culmination of his story was the scene where another circus performer, the Fool, tells Gelsomina that every single thing on earth is good for something and even a tiny stone has meaning.
She asks, "What's it good for?" The Fool then says, "I don't know. But it certainly has its use. If it were useless, then everything would be useless ― even the stars."
Of course this is not the exact version the teacher told us. But I remember his verbal rendition of the movie was touching and made me think about the meaning of existence.
I actually watched the movie many years after I graduated from the school. It's still one of my favorite movies, and it always reminds me of the teacher.
Last week, we had a "banchanghwae," a reunion of our class along with our teacher. It was our first get-together in 28 years.
We met at a Japanese restaurant in southern Seoul. Entering the room, I bowed deeply to my teacher, who smiled at me and said, "Here comes a well-behaved student." It was very nice of him to say, and he said it as if he still remembered me.
In all, nine of his pupils gathered to reunite. Despite the passage of such a long time, our teacher didn't look much different. He still wears his trademark thick glasses and enjoys smoking. He gave some of us cigarettes and we smoked together.
Also unchanged was his sense of humor. He said he told his family at the beginning of the year that he would quit smoking. "After I declared my resolution, I found them holding a family meeting to discuss how to cope with my being alive until I'm 100 years old. The moment I overheard them, I told them I would not stop smoking."
When some of us began talking about politics, he chided us for bringing up such an appetite-killing subject while such nice dishes were set before us. And finding that one of us still remains single, he said he would introduce him to some rich widows. He still has the knack to make us giggle.
Though he is in his mid-70s, he is still energetic when he talks about photos and literature. Sadly, he said his shoulder and legs are aching and that it is getting harder to walk around.
He proudly said that one of his pupils, who was extremely poor and couldn't pay tuition fees, had now grown into an influential novelist. He said he was sorry for failing to help him more when he was a student. He was a teacher who was eager to help students from low-income backgrounds.
He also told us about pictures he had taken and the beautiful scenes he had captured with his camera. He promised one of us that he'd frame some of his work and give it to him.
As parting time neared, he took out a stylish hat and placed it on his head, saying, "I wear this when I meet grandmas."
He had brought a big envelope for each of us. In each of the envelopes was a book he had published and a photo of our high school building in the old days. The book is a collection of humorous traditional folktales.
Outside the restaurant, he refused to get in a taxi we had hailed for him and headed toward a nearby subway station, leaving each of us with the envelope.