he sun was setting and a faint breeze stirred over our flushed faces as we
put down the last of the sand bags. Two wood-frame single classroom
buildings finally stood before us. Father Lee, my younger brother Inchun,
and all the teachers and students stood staring in silence as they proudly
beheld the grand buildings. As Teacher Yun gazed at the first classroom, she
seemed to caress every beam, board and brick with her large dark eyes. She
then turned to the second classroom, and again, lovingly examined every
inch of it, from to to bottom. I could almost tell which pieces of brick, wood
and concerete my best friend Bokhi and I had carried. "Oh, I can't stand it
anymore," one girl finally shouted with excitement. "I want to go inside and
walk around."
The teachers smiled as they watched us rush into the classrooms. How proud we were to have helped build our very own school. My shoulders and back ached, and my callused hands throbbed. Hot tears flooded by eyes. I was exhausted, but it was a happy exhaustion, and I felt overjoyed.
"You all go home early for a change," said Teacher Yun. "Let us teachers take care of the rest. No need for you to come back this weekend. We will finish up, and on Monday, we can use our new classrooms."
Our teachers were so thoughtful to let us all go home and have the weekend to ourselves. This would be the first Saturday and Sunday we would not be working at the site since construction had begun several months before.
How glad we have been when Teacher Yun first found this small plot by the seashore, in an area of Pusan where many refugees, including Bokhi, had settled. Teacher Yun and a few other teachers from the Ewha School in Seoul had managed to flee to Pusan, and they were anxious to reach refugee students like Bokhi and me. We were even more anxious to resume our studies. WE had not attended any school since the war began, over eight months earlier. Pusan was so crowded that there was no place for us to gather and study, so we had decided to build our own classrooms. When Teacher Yun found this site, we quickly began to build our small school, using whatever materials we could find. We collected driftwood, bricks, stones, rocks, pebbles, and even shells. We carried these things to the building site, while we dreamed of having a place to sit and study, protected from the monsoon rains, the howling winds, and the scorchingly hot sun. Now that dream stood right before us.
Wonderful as it was to see the two rooms finished, suddenly, I couldn't help feeling a strange sadness deep within me. Our country was still at war, and we were still refugees here in Pusan. I felt sad at how content we were with these two simple wood-frame buildings. I wondered what had become of our beautiful brick Ewha School in Seoul, with its sparkling classrooms and its beautifully tiered garden. Maybe we could make a small garden in front of these humbler classrooms, I thought.