In this blog post, I’ll focus on “Experiences and Insights from a 4-Night, 5-Day Sharing Classroom Volunteer Program.”
What Led Me to Participate and How I Prepared
It was toward the end of the first semester last year. I hadn’t made any plans for summer break, so the approaching summer seemed like a blank slate. Since I wasn’t a freshman, I couldn’t just spend over two months doing nothing. On top of that, it seemed like everyone around me—going on trips, preparing for club performances, or attending English academies—had constructive plans, except for me. I felt the pressure to come up with a plan—any plan—as soon as possible. Then, by chance, I saw a poster in the dorm recruiting participants for the “Sharing Classroom.” The poster explained that the Sharing Classroom was a program organized by our school’s volunteer club, involving educational volunteer work where we would visit middle and high schools in remote mountainous and island regions with poor educational infrastructure. I recalled the personal statement I had written two years earlier, filled with a firm resolve to become a college student who contributes to society through volunteer work. Since the pledge I had made in that statement had always lingered in the back of my mind like an obligation I had to fulfill someday, I didn’t hesitate and immediately applied to participate.
Out of several middle and high schools, I decided to go to Ucheon Middle School in Hoengseong, Gangwon Province. I had to spend a month preparing in advance for the five-day, four-night “Sharing Classroom” program with the students at Ucheon Middle School. Since I had applied with a casual mindset, thinking I just wanted to do some volunteer work, I didn’t realize at first how much responsibility this task would entail. It wasn’t until I read the essays written by the students who had applied for the Sharing Classroom at our first preparation meeting that I began to truly grasp that sense of responsibility. The children were excited and eagerly anticipating the program simply because students from Seoul National University were coming. I realized, “I can’t approach this with a casual, half-hearted attitude if I want to meet the children’s expectations,” and I began to feel the weight of that responsibility. For a month, I prepared my study method guide and math lessons. I started with the intention of creating a meaningful program where all the participating children could reflect on their dreams once again, but I eventually realized that the program didn’t yield such grand results. Nevertheless, what this brief four-night, five-day volunteer experience left me with was far more than just five days of memories.
Field Experience: Awkwardness, Effort, and Reward
On the morning I set out to meet the children, I left for Hoengseong with a sense of excitement. “Will the children like me and follow along well?” “Will I be able to conduct the prepared lessons smoothly?” “Will I be able to create good memories for them?” I had all sorts of worries as well. After about three hours, I arrived in Hoengseong. For someone like me who had grown up only in the city, the scenery that unfolded before me was incredibly unfamiliar. As I walked along the path between the fields, which were completely green, and the village houses clustered together, my excitement grew even more as I approached Ucheon Middle School. Upon arriving at the school, I went to meet the students waiting for us in the auditorium. After a brief orientation, I finally met the students I would be working with.
Wucheon Middle School was a small school with fewer than 100 students in total, so there was only one class in the second grade. I was assigned to teach eight students—about one-third of the students in the sole second-grade Class 1. There were five boys and three girls. Thinking of them as “my group,” they all looked adorable to me. I tried to break the awkward atmosphere and get to know the students by leading an icebreaker activity, but an unexpected problem arose. During an activity where each group had to come up with a slogan and draw a picture, only the four boys were mingling and noisily brainstorming ideas, while one boy and the rest of the girls sat quietly without saying a word. I had heard that because there are few schools in the Hoengseong area, most of the children had been in the same class throughout elementary and middle school. Because of this, I assumed they were all close with each other and that I just needed to get close to them. However, there was still an invisible barrier between the eight children who had been classmates for at least two years, and in some cases, as long as eight years. The boys and girls barely spoke to each other. In fact, one of the boys had even been bullied, and the girls weren’t close with each other either.
I thought that if everyone got along, I could just get close to them too, but that became impossible, which left me feeling very flustered. My group didn’t feel like one group; it felt more like five separate groups. Whenever I needed to talk to the students or explain a lesson, I had to repeat myself five times. How could there be bullying among such a small group of kids? How could students who had spent so much time together not get along at all? It was hard to believe, but that was the reality, and I had to adapt to it and lead my group forward. I went back and forth, striking up conversations and encouraging them to participate in class. The hot weather didn’t help either; even though there was only one class on the first day, I felt completely exhausted after it ended. I realized just how incredibly difficult it is to keep distracted middle schoolers focused, and it finally hit me that I hadn’t come here for a vacation for the next five days.
On the second day, strangely enough, even though only a single day had passed, yesterday’s awkwardness had eased considerably, and we had become a bit more friendly with each other. Most of the students participated much more actively in class. Since middle schoolers don’t yet face a heavy academic burden, I had prepared lessons designed to motivate them to study rather than simply teaching study methods. Seeing them concentrate on solving the math quizzes I’d prepared gave me a sense of pride. Although the lessons I’d prepared weren’t perfect, they went along without any major issues. However, there was one student who kept weighing on my mind. She was a girl with the pretty name “Somi,” but from the very first day, she didn’t say a word and just sat there with a blank expression. It seemed like she wasn’t particularly interested in the class, so I talked to her a lot and tried to encourage her participation, but even by the second day, it didn’t seem to be making much of a difference. She quietly did what she was told, but it looked like she was doing it reluctantly, which made me worry even more.
I had a lot of thoughts running through my mind all evening. I was working so hard, yet the child wasn’t keeping up, and I found myself resenting her for no good reason. I blamed myself, wondering if my own shortcomings were preventing me from making the experience enjoyable, and I felt sorry for her. At the same time, I asked myself again whether what I was doing was truly volunteering. If it’s volunteer work, shouldn’t it at least be helpful to the people we’re serving? I had prepared for this program believing that the Sharing Classroom was a way to share our study methods and knowledge with students studying in poor educational environments, helping them get even one step closer to their dreams. But then I even began to wonder if it wouldn’t be more helpful to just leave the child alone if they didn’t want to participate.
“Is it the right choice to give up on Somi and just get through the remaining three days?” After wrestling with this question, I decided to try a little harder for those last three days—just three days. In reality, a four-night, five-day program is far too short a time to bring about real change in these children. It’s undoubtedly difficult to instill dreams and motivation for studying in such a short time. But I quickly came to a decision when I realized that if I didn’t make an effort during those five days, it would be even harder to bring about the positive changes that could alter the children’s futures. I was able to steel my resolve with this mindset because I, too, had a precious experience in middle school when I participated in a camp similar to the Sharing Classroom, which led me to dream of becoming an engineer.
The next day, I made an effort to spend a little more time by Somi’s side than I had on the second day. I could see her gradually opening up to me. Unlike the previous two days, when she had sat there expressionless, she smiled broadly at me. And the child who had been so quiet came to me before I even had a chance to speak, pouring out her stories. During the activity where we wrote diaries set 20 years in the future, she hesitated at first, but soon told me that her dream was to become a nurse. Thinking that if I had taught the class that day with the mindset of giving up on Somi, I wouldn’t have seen this child’s smile, I realized how fortunate my decision from the previous day had been. Not only Somi, but the other children as well opened up to me even more than I had opened up to them. Seeing them participate enthusiastically in the program we prepared and hear them say they had fun gave me a deep sense of fulfillment. More than anything, I was happy knowing that my efforts weren’t going to waste but were helping the children, even if only a little.
What I gave the children during those five days was only a tiny fraction of what they gave me. Many people say they volunteer because they gain more than they give. Before joining the Sharing Classroom, when I volunteered just to fill my time, I couldn’t understand that saying. However, through the children with shining dreams I met at the Sharing Classroom, I came to truly empathize with those words. When it was time to part ways with the children, I was overcome with regret and guilt for not having done more for them, and I ended up shedding tears. The children in our group also said goodbye with tears in their eyes. It was the most bittersweet farewell I have ever experienced.
To this day, I cannot forget the children’s smiles and tears. These memories have become my driving force, and I continue to volunteer to this day. This past summer vacation, I formed a bond with middle school students in Yeosu, and this semester, I’ve been visiting the Jungang Social Welfare Center in Gwanak-gu every other week. I want to continue volunteering not out of a sense of duty, but as a heartfelt exchange of hearts, never forgetting those memories.
This is a moving essay describing the experiences gained through volunteer work. It begins with the author’s motivation for starting volunteer work and seamlessly connects the preparation process, the difficulties and rewards encountered during the activities, and the author’s subsequent life and resolve. In particular, the story of how the initially awkward and strained relationship with the children gradually grew closer, leading to mutual tears at their parting after such a short time, is deeply touching. The author’s sincere reflection on the difficulties encountered during the volunteer work allows readers to glimpse their genuine feelings and mature attitude.
I would like to add one point of criticism. There is a lack of explanation regarding why the children were not close to one another and were reluctant to open up. The essay would be enriched if the author included information or shared their observations and speculations regarding whether “bullying” exists even in rural schools, whether the issues stem from conflicts among the children, or if their reluctance to open up is due to family circumstances. Additionally, in the second paragraph, where the author concludes that they were unable to achieve “grand results” commensurate with the original intent of the Sharing Classroom, providing a more detailed explanation of what this specifically means would help readers better understand the realities of volunteer work.
