This week in Jeonju revealed to me how language, when unfolded carefully, is more than words or grammar. It becomes a bridge between cultures and a mirror of identity. In every classroom and conversation, I saw how education opens layers of meaning that connect people across borders. On Monday, my mentor prepared for a business trip to Jeju to accompany students who would work there for a month. It was striking to see how third-grade students are trusted with such opportunities, learning responsibility through real-world experience. Education here is not confined to the classroom; it extends into society, shaping identity through practice. Paulo Freire once wrote in Pedagogy of Freedom: “To teach is not to transfer knowledge but to create the possibilities for the production or construction of knowledge.” These students’ journey to Jeju embodies that idea of knowledge unfolding in life itself.
Later that day, I discovered that Indonesian and Malay Studies are offered at Hankuk University of Foreign Studies (HUFS) and Busan University of Foreign Studies (BUFS). Seeing my mother tongue studied seriously in Korea filled me with pride. It reminded me of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s words in Decolonising the Mind: “Language carries culture, and culture carries... the body of values by which we come to perceive ourselves.” The study of Indonesian in Korea proves that language is a vessel that unfolds culture, identity, and even solidarity between nations.
On Tuesday, I taught my homeroom
class how to ask and answer about age in English. It was a simple lesson, yet
meaningful. When students confidently said, “I am sixteen,” their voices
unfolded not just language but also self-expression. Later, I learned about
Korea’s generous leave policies for teachers, up to thirty days depending on
years of service, in addition to semester breaks. This practice respects
teachers’ well-being, something often overlooked in Indonesia. The Korean
saying “쉬는것도공부다” (“Rest is also a form of study”) captures this wisdom. For me, it also
unfolded a lesson: education values not only the learner’s identity but also
the teacher’s humanity. I also teach about traditional costume from Indoensia at the second grade at barista class that day.
On Wednesday, I observed how students used language to explain their thoughts about culture. At first, their words were simple, even fragmented, but gradually the meanings became clearer. I believe that education is not about demanding perfection, but about providing a safe space where language can unfold step by step. I saw curiosity becoming the bridge that connected learning with identity. I understand more deeply that language learning is always intertwined with cultural identity. As students explore words and sentences, they are also discovering the cultural lenses that shape their understanding. In this way, language acts as a bridge. One that connects local traditions with global perspectives, and personal identity with collective belonging. Wednesday’s lesson showed me that unfolding language is not a one-time achievement but an ongoing process. Education, therefore, must not only teach language as a tool of communication but also nurture it as a bridge of meaning, culture, and self-discovery.
Thursday’s lesson on hobbies deepened this reflection. What started as language practice describing “I like reading” or “I like dancing” turned into a process of self-discovery. Students were not only using English but also naming what gives them joy, what represents their personality. Language here unfolded identity, showing that education is not about memorizing sentences but about recognizing oneself. Later that day, I introduced Indonesian symbols such as Garuda Pancasila and the red-and-white flag through games. Dewey’s idea in Democracy and Education that “learning is experiential” came alive in that moment. Students unfolded their understanding of another culture through play, curiosity, and dialogue.
Friday was the culmination of the week. I asked students to describe themselves and their dreams in English. Some were shy, others bold, but all unfolded parts of who they are. Language became a medium to imagine futures, to affirm identities, to speak themselves into being. By the end of the week, I realized that to teach language is to unfold culture and identity. Sharing about Jamu and Kopi Tubruk with colleagues, wearing Indonesian costumes with students, or simply learning to say “잘먹겠습니다” (jal meokgetseumnida, “I will eat well”) before meals, each was a moment where layers of culture and identity unfolded. The Korean proverb “배움에는끝이없다” (“There is no end to learning”) resonates with this truth. Education never stops unfolding new meanings, bridging differences, and weaving connections.
Thus, my week in Jeonju affirmed that education abroad is not about
transferring fixed knowledge. It is about unfolding language into culture,
culture into identity, and identity into shared humanity. Freire reminds us
that education can either reinforce boundaries or liberate us. Here, I saw the
liberating power of education: unfolding language into bridges, not walls.
In today’s era of endless short videos, where attention is constantly stolen by quick entertainment, I believe it is essential to train ourselves to listen to long, meaningful conversations. This podcast teach me a lot about wounds..
Minggu pagi di apartemen Jeonju, setelah Subuh sebenarnya ingin tidur lagi tetapi mata tak kunjung bisa terpejam. Saya akhirnya memilih membuat sarapan sambil membuka podcast Helmi Yahya dengan bintang tamu Shahnaz Haque. Dari percakapan itu, saya mendapat banyak pelajaran hidup yang begitu relevan.
Shahnaz Haque adalah adik bungsu dari Marissa Haque, aktris sekaligus politisi, dan Soraya Haque, model sekaligus presenter. She started her journey in the public eye through modeling, Abang None Jakarta, and later entered the Puteri Indonesia contest. CMIIW. Namun di balik pencapaian itu, ia menyimpan luka masa kecil yang besar. Pertengkaran orang tua membuat rumah tidak selalu nyaman baginya, bahkan ia pernah hampir tujuh tahun tidak pulang. Life sometimes pushes us away from the people we love the most, yet in unexpected ways it also brings us back. Hingga suatu takdir Allah membawanya kembali ketika harus meminta tanda tangan ayahnya untuk operasi kanker ovarium. Kepulangan yang berat itu ternyata menjadi berkah. Ia mendapat kesempatan merawat ayahnya di masa-masa terakhir, dan di situlah ia menyadari bahwa cintanya pada ayahnya tak pernah hilang. Begitu juga sebaliknya.
From this story, Shahnaz teaches us that forgiveness is powerful. Luka masa kecil tidak membuatnya larut dalam kepahitan, justru mendorong ia dan kedua kakaknya untuk saling menguatkan, saling mendukung, dan tumbuh menjadi pribadi yang sukses. Choosing kindness, even when raised in pain, is what transforms wounds into wisdom. Kebaikan yang kita pilih hari ini bisa menjadi jembatan bagi masa depan yang lebih sehat.
Shahnaz juga mengingatkan bahwa parenting tidak pernah ada rumus bakunya. You can give ten pieces of advice, but if your child follows just one, that is already something to be grateful for. Sebab pada hakikatnya anak sering gagal mendengarkan kata-kata kita, tetapi mereka tidak pernah gagal meniru perilaku kita. Parenting bukan sekadar berkata “kan sudah dibilang,” melainkan memberi teladan sehari-hari. Children see, children do.
Ia menekankan pentingnya membedakan antara lingkaran pribadi dan perbuatan anak. As parents, we must learn to separate who our children are from what they do. Sebagai pribadi, anak perlu diterima dengan ridho. Tetapi dalam perbuatan, tentu ada batas yang tidak bisa ditoleransi, terutama bila melanggar adab. Adab stands higher than mere knowledge. Marah boleh, itu manusiawi, tetapi cara marah harus diatur agar tetap mendidik, bukan melukai.
Home, therefore, is not just a physical place but a nurturing space. Di situlah anak belajar menjadi dewasa, dan orang tua belajar menjadi pendidik. Home is the first school, not only for children but also for parents. Karena itu jangan biarkan rumah menjadi racun; jadilah pribadi yang mandiri, bukan beban. Kesedihan memang wajar, tapi tidak semua harus diumbar. Rumah seharusnya menjadi tempat aman untuk belajar mencintai dan dicintai.
Pelajaran dari Shahnaz sederhana bahwa parenting is not about perfection, but about presence, role modeling, kindness, and forgiveness. Anak mungkin gagal mendengar, tapi mereka tidak pernah gagal meniru. Luka bisa sembuh dengan kebaikan. Dan rumah akan selalu menjadi tempat belajar bersama, tempat kita menumbuhkan cinta. Seperti yang dikatakan Shahnaz, “Ketika satu pintu tertutup, akan ada pintu lain yang terbuka. Selama hidup masih diberi izin oleh Sang Pencipta, jangan diam, lakukan sesuatu.”
Sebagai seorang pendidik, saya merasa pesan ini sangat relevan. Teaching and parenting share the same essence: children learn more from what we do than from what we say.Both in the classroom and at home, we are constantly learning to grow, to guide, and to love. Mungkin di situlah letak keindahan hidup, bahwa luka, maaf, dan cinta bisa berjalan beriringan, membentuk kita menjadi manusia yang lebih utuh.
If I had
listened to voices when I was in the university that said, “A student of Indonesian language shouldn’t be
speaking English, especially if it is full of mistakes,” I would never have
reached this point. Instead, I chose to pause, reflect, and try again. Every
mistake became not a barrier but a stepping stone toward growth. If I had
listened to those who asked, “Why travel so much when your main duty is to
teach?” I might never be here either. Yet my journeys are never random;
each comes through official institutions, regional education offices, boards,
or ministries, and always with the goal of expanding the reach of education and
literacy. To me, a classroom is not merely a space for instruction; it is a
place of inspiration and transformation. As Nelson Mandela reminded us, “Education
is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”
This week at
Wansan Girls’ High School (WGHS), I saw how culture and humanity intertwine in
surprising ways. After teaching about GCED and the SDGs, I introduced
Indonesia’s tepuk semangat, and in return, students sang Korean
children’s songs. That simple exchange confirmed Benjamin Franklin’s wisdom: “Tell
me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.”
Learning is alive when rooted in involvement. During breaks, I discussed with
my mentor the school’s employment program, where not all students pursue
university. Some already work with partner companies before graduation, even
earning more than their teachers. This integration of theory and practice
demonstrates that education must prepare students for life itself, not just for
examinations. Teachers here earn between 2.3 and 5 million won, a steady
livelihood in a country where cars are necessities rather than luxuries.
I also
observed the unique rhythms of school life. Students might raise their left
hand, study while eating, or wear makeup and stylish clothes. Yet beneath this
casual surface lies immense academic pressure. English here is not a priority, but
despite Korea’s advanced status, students pursue it with seriousness. Some feel
shy and rely on Papago or Google Translate, but their respect for language is
evident. As Wittgenstein wrote, “The limits of my language mean the limits
of my world.” For me, their eagerness to learn reflects doors opening
toward wider worlds. Technology fills classrooms here, yet I continue to assign
handwriting. Research confirms its cognitive benefits: handwriting enhances
comprehension and memory, while typing serves efficiency. Both are essential. Handwriting
for deep processing, typing for storing and sharing. James and Engelhardt
(2012) even showed that handwriting activates brain regions tied to reading
more strongly than typing.
Sunday
reminded me of connection across distances, as the IKTE 2025 Indonesian
delegation met on Zoom to share early experiences. By Monday, September 15, the
week began with a simple photograph in front of the school office, my own ritual
that felt almost symbolic. Soon after, I joined class of homeroom with my
mentor. One student was absent for work, unusual for me at first, but here it
is part of the system. Students can formally miss class if it supports their
future employment. Later that day, I uploaded reflections online: a book
review, an essay, and key lessons learned.
In the afternoon, students created
GCED posters that combined creativity, critical thinking, and English. Over
lunch, conversations drifted to Korean wedding traditions, which contrast
sharply with those in Indonesia. These exchanges reminded me that classrooms
are mirrors of society, where education, culture, and aspirations converge.
Tuesday
carried the same rhythm of collaboration and discovery. I joined first graders
with my mentor and later met Teacher Mo and Teacher Ju to prepare for the
October 16 visit of Thai teachers, along with APCEU UNESCO and Korea’s Ministry
of Education. For my second-grade Barista class, I designed interactive
materials such cards, quizzes, and videos about Indonesia, especially Jambi.
While some students looked tired, the videos revived their attention.
With
Papago, we bridged language gaps. Later, flashcard activities allowed students
to write down Indonesian facts in English and Korean on sticky notes. Even in a
classroom full of iPads, I encourage them to write by hand, it is good to their
learning process. Some forgot their pens, reminding me of my own students in Indonesia. After lunch, I joined Kak Jil and Teacher Mo for coffee. We discussed how Teacher's department helps students find jobs after graduation. Not all will continue to university; some prepare for careers immediately. That conversation reminded me of the practical side of education: opening pathways, not just delivering knowledge.
By
Wednesday, research ideas began to crystallize. Over coffee, I drafted a
framework for a study on handwriting versus typing in learning, particularly
when tied to local stories and GCED values. After that, I joined Jin Hee’s
travel club. We visited Lotte Mart, where students discovered halal labels an
unexpected but valuable lesson in cultural awareness. On the way, we sang
together, blending joy with education beyond the classroom walls.
Thursday and
Friday unfolded with energy. I continued homeroom activities, GCED lessons, and
group poster-making, where students mixed learning with play, even eating
popcorn as they worked on their posters.
On Friday, I taught English vocabulary
on the days of the week, then guided students in preparing dream boards on the
digital board.
Their dreams, sometimes serious but sometimes funny, filled the
room with laughter and hope. I left the week with excitement for the coming
autumn in Jeonju, feeling that each lesson had gone beyond the textbook into
life itself.
Week 3 in
Jeonju reminded me that teaching is never one-directional. It is a dialogue
between cultures, ideas, and everyday lives. I learned that education is not
confined to PowerPoints or worksheets. It lives in the rhythm of tepuk semangat,
in the balance of school and work, in conversations about ceremony and
traditions, in the discovery of halal labels at a mart, and in the shared
laughter of the songs.
These experiences reaffirm that true education is not
just about transmitting knowledge, but about cultivating resilience, empathy,
and vision for the future. It is, indeed, a journey beyond the textbook. It shapes resilience, nurtures empathy,
and prepares us for life’s unpredictable paths. For that, I am deeply grateful.
My sunday morning be-like
outdoor fitness equipments in the park
yay halal snack
room for hotel club at WGHS
their free meal, look delicious but I can't eat it huhu
vending machine for snack
check their notes
Ok bye. Here I attach a video during my week three here in Jounju.
This week in Jeonju revealed to me how language, when unfolded carefully, is more than words or grammar. It becomes a bridge between cultures and a mirror of identity. In every classroom and conversation, I saw how education opens layers of meaning that connect people across borders. On Monday, my mentor prepared for a business trip to Jeju to accompany students who would work there for a month. It was striking to see how third-grade students are trusted with such opportunities, learning responsibility through real-world experience. Education here is not confined to the classroom; it extends into society, shaping identity through practice. Paulo Freire once wrote in Pedagogy of Freedom: “To teach is not to transfer knowledge but to create the possibilities for the production or construction of knowledge.” These students’ journey to Jeju embodies that idea of knowledge unfolding in life itself..jpeg)
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