The Final Days

I'm composing this from Connecticut, where I have spent the past few weeks staring at all the non-Koreans, eating processed snacks, and trying not to bow when I say thank you.  But this will not be a post about transitioning back to America (which is kind of a disturbing place, as it turns out), but about my final days in Korea which I was too busy/tired to chronicle at the time.  And lazy.  That too.

So here are some belated glimpses of my Korean finale:  

December:

SH hands me around nine resumes of young females from North America, and asks me to read through them and choose a few to interview.  School is in session, but we've finished the textbooks, and have embarked on a Home Alone marathon in which I discover that Scarlett Johanssen is in Home Alone III as a preteen, but it's still a blah movie.  The kids are delighted with the comic violence and they shriek delightedly as the villains get their heads smashed with irons and bricks and are later set on fire and attacked by a stapler gun.  We play each movie in 40 minute chunks to three different classes, and by the end I am a strange juxtaposition of being in the Christmas spirit and being surprisingly desensitized to graphic violence.      

As Kevin mouths "Keep the change, ya dirty animal," I shuffle through the smiling photos of enthusiastic applicants with liberal arts degrees and wanderlust.  On paper, they all seem like they would do a great job, so I pick two or three who have a specific interest in Asia and a few years of experience with children.    

No, no, no.  My choices are misguided. SH is convinced that the age range needs to be a goldilocks mid-twenties; not too young, not too old.  

I go through the resumes and write out the highlights of each applicant on a sticky note for her examine.  SH isn't lazy; her English isn't strong enough to read the paragraphs of I-can-use-this-word-so-you-should-hire-me papers.  We discuss a few of the applicants who stand out, and set up three Skype/phone interviews.  SH hands me a paper of questions to ask the applicants, and then she finishes the interview with a little speech she has written out.    

"Do you like children?  Teaching children is deferent than teaching adults.  Many times students don't listen to you and they will bother you. I want you to know about this."

One applicant tells us how she is obsessively organized and clean.  After the interview, SH asks me what she meant, and I say that it means everything is neat and on time.  We look at our desks which are covered in lesson plans, reminders, and, in my case, a pen shaped like a fluffy flamingo.

"Not like that," I say.  She laughs.  I will miss her.

Eventually we settle on a girl who is friendly and energetic.         

January:

After a three-week vacation in Sweden, which is not an ideal location to winter, I come back to the equally snowy Korea and conduct my two week Winter camp.  

February:

My time in Korea is coming to a close.  Something about the impending departure makes me simultaneously want to soak up every last minute, even as I impatiently wait to leave.  It's not that I'm sick of Korea; I just have the expiration in sight and the remainder feels like waiting in line.  Really slowly -- because each day at school I sit at my desk for eight hours and try to be self-motivated.  I read online that another public school teacher spent his excess desk hours teaching himself finances and is now a bit of an investing guru.  This is inspiring, I think to myself, as I watch my online television shows.

Teacher's Dinner

Our school has a final Teacher's Dinner at a Japanese restaurant in Geumchon.   We are seated on cushions on the floor and there are several long tables in a sectioned off area that we reserved.  It's on a slightly raised platform and we take our shoes off before stepping up.  It's Japanese, but, like every good restaurant in Korea, has kimchi, hot soups, Soju and Hite.  The tables are gloriously laid with sushi and side dishes and alcohol and soft drinks.  As we sit and eat, the waiters constantly stream in with new foods to try; sashimi, soups, fried desserts.  

But before we start: Surprise!  The leaving teachers will all be giving short goodbye speeches to the room.  I suppose I should have anticipated this after having had to give an intro speech at the beginning of the year, but it hadn't crossed my mind.  I wish I could remember enough Korean to say something significant.  The person giving her speech before me is young -- mid-twenties -- and starts to cry halfway through her speech.  Everybody "awww" or giggles and she can't finish her speech.  I, of course, am next.  Yes, I'm supposed to follow the crying girl.

I stand up and bow, and enunciate very clearly and slowly how grateful I am to everyone (wide gesture to the room) and how I love Korea and its mountains (big mountain curve gesture) and it's very beautiful and I am very happy to have come and everyone is very kind.  I end with a Korean thank you and a bow.  They hand me a goodbye envelope with 10,000 Won and a slip of paper with something typed in Korean.

The evening proceeds nicely and is filled with teachers getting drunk enough to feel confident enough to use their English on me.    Most of the teachers who talk to me spend their time apologizing over being too shy to speak to me at school.  I am oh-so-forgiving and we graciously toast each other, knowing full well that we will be silently nodding at each other in the hallways on Monday.  Eventually an older gentleman corners me and leans at me, mumbling incoherent English and Korean that SH also finds incoherent and instead of translating says "Pretend like you understand what I am saying."  So I look at him and nod and laugh.  It's been a couple hours at this point, and the night is just getting started for most of them, but SH tells me I'm allowed to leave.  The next day Correy tells me he saw my Vice Principal and a group at noraebong at 1 in the morning.

**

The week before I leave is low key.  Both SH and I are desk-warming, and, with my extensive experience, I am much better at it than she.  I read a book, chat, surf facebook, watch online TV, write emails, etc., while she sits with her phone, texting and then sighing and telling me she's bored.  I suggest watching Korean soap operas online and she groans and lays her head onto her arms on the desk.  Cool.  Another teacher comes in -- a young woman called Yanghee who was the English co-teacher before SH -- and speaks to SH about lunch.  I hear them say "migook", which means America, so I know they are talking about me.

"Can you eat goats-eh?"Yanghee asks me, looking distrustful at the idea.

"Goats?" It didn't sound like a scary food to me.  They think I'm such a wuss.

"Goats-eh" she says again, and makes a pregnant belly movement over her stomach.

"Ohh, guts?  No, I can't."  I laugh.  We all laugh.  I am a wuss.

'Nsync pose

**

The teacher exchange across public schools in Korea is one of the haphazard aspects of the system that makes no sense to me.   Each teacher is allowed to stay five years maximum at one school, so that different schools have a chance to have good teachers (and bad teachers are shuffled around).  Fine.  What I don't understand is why the management can't figure out where teachers are going to go until a week before they start.  My original co-teacher, Young Rock, was moving schools this year, and he wasn't told until a week before what his new school would be, or even what grade he would teach.  I think some teachers have better luck, but even still -- the physical and mental preparation involved in starting a new grade at a new school requires more than a week's notice.  

**

My sixth graders graduate with a sweet little ceremony in the cleared out cafeteria, which converts into a sort of auditorium.  Proud 6th grade parents sit together at the back of the hall, behind the younger students, and the teachers sit along the left, in a sectioned off area.  It starts with the fifth graders playing the saw -- our principal is a talented saw player (see above video from Sports Day) and once a week he teaches them classic songs that have included "Country Road," "Yesterday," and "Somewhere over the Rainbow."  The principal then gives a speech and starts calling up the names of each student, who bow once in greeting to the principal and once in thanks upon receipt of the diploma.  Afterwards, parents give their kids flowers and hugs.

Before the ceremony starts, when everyone is milling about, I go over to where my favorite fifth graders are sitting and point to the seats at the front where the 6th graders are.

"Next year, you will be there.  Are you excited?"

They stare at me.  I repeat myself with dramatic hand and facial expressions: "Next year" -- left hand makes giant arch over stationary right hand -- "You" -- point -- "Will be there" -- point at 6th grade -- "Are you excited?" -- happy face dance.

"Oh no!"  They make faces and shake their heads.  Ah, right.  A grade higher = more work, more expectations, less childhood.

**

We have our final band night.  It's Katie's apartment and it smells of incense and candles and chai tea, and the lamp is covered by a scarf, which means the lighting is soft as one of us picks up an instrument and sings a slow melody.  We film each other answering questions about where we're at, where we think we're heading, what our philosophies are, and the significants who are enriching or leaving our lives.  Inspired by a documentary, we vow that we will shoot follow up films every five or so years.  In the meantime, we're all enamored with the 1-second-a-day guy who creates montages from seconds of his days.

One of my friends -- who has been pregnant 9 of the 11 months I've known her, so I actually have no idea what her personality is like -- has a birthday and about ten of us squish into the apartment where they live with their newborn.  The child is adorable and my child-holding privileges have been restored after I retracted all kidnapping comments.  And bribed them with a Baskin Robbins ice cream cake.  We take spoons and eat the colorful cake that is split into eight sections of mostly delicious flavors.  The way we consume it is like a really questionable commercial that simultaneously makes you want to purchase, devour and then throw up the product.  

I say goodbye to the rest of my friends and acquaintances, except most of my writer's group, who will hopefully use my mysterious disappearance as writing fodder for a terrific book.  I give my darling cat away to a stranger from an expat chat board.  She has wavy brown hair and seems nice in a probably-won't-eat-my-cat way.

On Monday, I pull my all-nighter packout and am driven to the airport by my Korean friend Jane and her sleepy brother.  We discuss her upcoming English classes, dating, and traveling.  Goodbyes to fellow travelers never feel permanent.

**

Here are some seconds of my last year and a half.  I didn't manage to do seconds from consecutive days (very often), but I still thought it was a cool project.

And that officially concludes my Korean adventure.  Hello America.  

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Day 357 - What I will miss about Korea

I'm not exactly sure what day I'm on, but it must be around the 357 range, because my contract is a year, and I'm leaving in five days, a bit before it officially ends.

I am sometimes very bad at creating closure with people, places, ages, etc., but my goodbye to Korea has been slow and long, so I thought I'd take a moment to write out some of the things I will miss.

Things I will miss about living/teaching in Korea:

- Walking around by myself past midnight and feeling completely safe.  I have never felt as safe in a country as I do here.  (Which is ironic, as I'm on the border of a crazy-eyed, nuke-happy dictator). 

-  Low crime in general.  I haven't had to think about pickpockets.  My friends have had phones and wallets returned to them.  I've left my bags outside for one reason or another. 

- Public Transportation.  It costs me a couple of dollars to get to Seoul -- an hour away -- on a direct bus.  The buses are direct and extensive.  The metro is clean, fast, and extensive.  It's great not having to be dependent on a car.

- Not worrying about taxes when shopping or eating out.  The price listed is what you'll pay.  How pleasant.

- And on that note, not worrying about tipping in general.  I'm not miserly, and I know that tipping in the States is the bulk of the waiter/waitress' salary.  But it's nice that it's built in here.  And that it's still cheaper (Korean food), or similarly priced

- Korean food.  Mmmm.  Inexpensive access to delicious Korean barbeques, soups, bimbimbop, kimbop, etc.

- The tight knit community of foreigners in rural areas.  I live near a small town called Geumchon, and it's pretty cool to walk around and bump into friendly faces. 

- Free rent, inexpensive health care, cheap phone bills.

- "Service".  Service is what Koreans call little gifts that are thrown in for free with purchases.  Free drinks, free time at noraebong, free random stuff...

- Noraebong!  Noraebong is Karoake in a purer form.  It's private rooms with couches, tamborines, and giant TVs and mics set up for singing.  You and your friends choose all the songs, and you can be as ridiculous as you want.

- Kind and hospitable Korean people.  I've had so many stringless free lunches here.  And people who come up to me and help me carry things (suitcases, guitar cases, etc.), or just want to chat.  Strangers who help me with directions. 

- The children here.  Are. So. Incredibly. Cute.  It's absurd.

Ilsan 

- My students and the quirky, sweet things they say.  The ones who really want to communicate with me, so they come up and repeat "How are you?" over and over, or say "This is for you," and hand me random things from my desk (I think every ESL teacher grows to resent that lesson...).  The students who insist on taking photos with me, who try to have Google Translate conversations with me, who request Justin Bieber songs...And the quiet sweet ones who bow at me and murmer "Hello."  The artwork and failed attempts at spelling and grammar....

- My co-teacher.  Her muttering to herself in English and Korean and then saying "Why?!" when I laugh at her.  Her endless dramas with her bf.  Her existential crisis over teaching.

- My apartment.  It's a good size, and it's in the middle of a street that has restaurants, grocery stores, pharmacies, bakeries, convenience stores, etc.  I love living alone.

- Pizza School. These are a chain of pizza places that have 5 dollar pizzas (actually, more like $4.50 if you convert it.)  Pretty delicious...

- All the quirky things I take for granted.  Subway arrival music.  Larva cartoons on the bus.  Street food.  The everpresent feel of Psy...

**

There are probably many more things, but these are the ones that came to mind first. 

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The Deal with Winter Camp and Desk Warming

Winter Camp

Winter English Camp is a camp during winter vacation that most public school teachers are required to teach.  Depending on your school, it can range from a few days to a few weeks.  During the rest of the school holiday, English public school teachers are still required to come in, even though there are no classes and no other teachers.  We affectionately call this time "Desk Warming."

Winter Camp is entirely in the hands of the English teacher.  (Or, most are.)  I was the one who planned it and taught it.  It runs from 8:30-12:30, with the afternoons free for planning.  Mine was set up so that 9:00-9:40 was 1st/2nd grade for two weeks, and 9:50-12:10 was 3/4th grade for the first week and 5th/6th grade for the second week.  I had 18 or so 1/2nd graders, around nine 3/4th graders, and two 5/6th graders.  Yes, two.  (Six signed up, and three came the last day). 

From what I can tell, the school doesn't actually expect the kids to greatly improve their English at Winter Camp.  It's more about having fun doing silly activities and reviewing/picking up some new vocab along the way.  Initially (before Summer Camp) I had been excited for the camps to teach new grammar and subjects outside the book, but I quickly learned that the kids are in vacation mode.  Oh, and they don't particularly care about English.  Did you care about High School Spanish?

Supplies

My school has a pretty good English budget, and they offered us a few hundred thousand won (a few hundred dollars) for Winter Camp supplies.  I made a list of what I would need for the activities, my co-teacher got the list approved, and we went shopping together with a school credit card.

Some schools have really low budgets, and every school is slightly different in their approach.

My supplies included colored paper for projects, tape, balloons, cookie ingredients, etc.

Ideas for Winter Camp

Waygook.com will save your life.  Really.  It's a site where ESL teachers in Korea upload lesson plans, games, ideas, and other materials (crosswords, worksheets, etc.)  It has forums for different themed Winter Camps: Harry Potter, Space Camp, Olympics, etc. and they are filled with really useful material. 

For 1st and 2nd grade, I did a simple craft/art project about very basic vocabulary every period.  For example, we learned some weather vocabulary, colored umbrella top cutouts, and taped them to chopsticks.   

3+4th and 5th+6th I was able to get more advanced.  We learned English songs -- I printed out the lyrics with a bunch of words removed for them to fill in -- and made/ painted paper mache heads, played review games, watched Elf, did an Egg Drop, and made no-bake cookies.

Ideas that flopped:

1) Making a music video.  This might have worked if my kids were all outgoing/dancy/enthused about memorizing an English song.  They weren't. I have some pretty terrible footage of a few kids mouthing "Love me do."  Lots of blooper footage.  Maybe I can make a blooper movie and add the real bits at the end. 

2) Learning feelings, writing them in the snow and taking pictures.  Also, snow angels.  The kids had zero desire to go outside "Teacher! COLD!", which was understandable -- most of them had no hats or gloves.  (Dear parents...). 

Also, in spite of showing an inspiring Youtube video about how to make snow angels, my kids weren't enthused about trying them out.  Except one boy who ran ahead, stopped still, and then flung himself face-forward into the snow, flailing his body around.  It was beautiful.

3) S'mores.  This wasn't my idea, nor is it my story, but it makes me laugh so I will share it.  My friend Asrune has a tumultuous (read: bizarre/insane) relationship with her co-teacher.  Asrune sat down with her before camp to go over the supplies that the co-teacher would need to get for the Winter camp.

They discussed s'more ingredients for about 20 minutes, with Asrune explaining very carefully what a s'more was, and giving her a list of optional types of chocolate, graham crackers/biscuits, and marshmellows.

When Asrune returned from vacation to start winter camp, she looked at the s'more ingredients that had been supplied.  Well, actually, she didn't know they were s'more ingredients because they were so off-base -- she assumed they were random snack foods.  Here is a breakdown of her co-teacher's s'more ingredient interpretation:

Graham crackers became: Ritz cracker cheese sandwiches. 
Plain chocolate bars became: chocolate candy bars
And the topper -- Marshmellows became: MINI SAUSAGES.

What? 

Yes.  She couldn't find marshmellows and thought that mini sausages would be an appropriate substitute. 

Desk Warming

There are a ton of complaints about desk warming because it seems pointless and inefficient, and other teachers have the vacation days off.

I kind of enjoy it.  They're paying me to relax in a warm (oh yes, the heater is on when I'm here alone) room with internet access, a phone and a fridge.  Nobody checks up on me, and I have no work to do.  Which means I get to blog, read, write, take care of emails, make phone calls, Skype, and watch Community.  Which is so.amazing.love.

When camp ended last week, the kids whined and asked if they could visit me this week.  I gave them an hour on Monday and Tuesday.  I have no idea if I'm breaking laws, but I assume I'm not.  Today they came in and we watched K-pop music videos.

Kpop is the Korean pop music genre.  It consists of a million all-boy and all--girl pop groups that have around eight people with the same height, body, and face (they change up hair colors).  The girls are really cutesy with long hair, big eyes, and scaryscarytiny little waists.  The boys are the same, but with shorter hair and angstier expressions.  They mostly sing about relationships, from what I can tell of the English phrases thrown in (Girl, you're my caffeine; so I love you, so I hate you...)

They've got some catchy songs.  It's pop.  Here's a Girl's Generation video called "I have a boy." 

    

 One of the extremely popular boy bands is called Beast.  (Which has made for some fun English lessons: "No, not I want to meet the Beast.  Just Beast.)  Here is their song Bad Girl.

One of my kids spazzed out when showing me a video of them.  "Handsome!  Ohhhh!"  She turned to me and pointed at the screen.  "Handsome?"

I shrugged.  "They're so little."

"What?"

"Uh.  Baby.  Baby."  I made baby rocking gestures and pointed at Beast.

"Teacher, no!  No baby!"

"Yes!"  And then I told her I was 66.  She freaked out and started jabbering to her friend who also freaked out.  They pulled up Google Translate and typed in "How old are you?"

I repeated 66, and translated "Plastic Surgery."

"???"  They pointed at my face.  I pointed at my eyes, nose, chin, and then made a waving motion over my body.

One of them typed some Korean into Google Translate.  "66, huh?"  Not a bad translation.

And then.  "Her face is 20."

I laughed.   "Thank you." 

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Sarcasm, Autism, and free rides

Last Thursday I finally realized that sarcasm doesn't easily cross language barriers.  Unfortunatly, I discovered this while being broadcast on classroom TVs across our entire school.  Let me explain. 

Twice a week, I oh-so-slowly read a children's book on camera, and am broadcast live to all the students in their homerooms.  Three fifth graders are in the recording room with me, interacting with the story by listening and repeating and answering questions like "How many fish do you see?"

I am currently reading "Brown Bear" to the students, which is a simple book aimed for native speaking four-year-olds.  It goes like this: "Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?  I see a red bird looking at me.  Red bird, red bird, what do you see? ..." etc.  After reading the first two pages on Thursday, I looked up and questioned the students.

"What color is the bear?"

"Brown." They replied with confidence.

"No!"  I said.

Just like that.  No.  My co-teacher, who monitors my TV appearances for just this sort of situation, gave me a strangled, pained, whatswrongwiththishuman look.  The kids stared.

"Just kidding!" I smiled. More blank stares. I mentally noted to teach that expression to all of my classes.

**

There's an autistic kid in one of my fifth grade classes.  You can't tell by looking at him - average height, glasses, short dark hair - and generally well behaved, if spacey.  For the purposes of this blog, I will call him Jay.  At the beginning, I didn't realize he had a disability, and tried to help him with his in-class work, until SH told me to leave him alone because he ... "has a handicapped?" (we have many great naver translation conversations).  I'm not sure what the learning approach is for him in other classrooms, but apparently nobody cares about his English levels. 

I left Jay alone after that; I've barely heard him speak Korean, let alone English.  We had one incident where he became upset over a new seating arrangement involving him sitting by a girl, but besides that he blended into the class as shy, awkward 10-year-old.  His behavior was so reasonable - and so preferable to my ADHD kids - that I was convinced he had Asperger's, a highly functioning autism.  Until Thursday.

We were in the middle of a class game which involved students competing against each other and "evolving" to different parts of the classroom.  I was walking from station to station,making sure the target language was being used, when I heard a commotion behind me.  I turned to see Jay shouting and lunging at other students.  SH tackled him from behind with a bear hug, pinning his arms to his side as he wiggled and kicked furiously.  If you recall, SH is tiny - 5 ft, size 0 tiny - and I froze, uncertain how to help.  Two or three of the students grabbed his wrists and feet, and I started to pull them off, trying to avoid a fight.

"No, let them!" SH said.  "Please control the class. I will watch him."  I nodded, unsure how she thought the game was going to continue as usual with a kicking, screaming kid in the middle of the room.  None of the students seemed too bothered by it - many of them were smiling.

"We are sorry teacher.  Sorry."  Two of my kids started apologizing to me for Jay's behavior.  Eventually his homeroom teacher came in and calmed him down.

Later SH explained that the kids knew how to help Jay relax; they were used to his outbursts and were allowed to help physically restrain him. 

I have no idea how autistic kids are treated in American public schools, but I have a feeling it errs more on the side of avoiding lawsuits (ie. don't let students physically step in).  Honestly, the Korean system feels family oriented - it felt like the kids were his siblings.  Kind of cool.

**

There's a lady, a science teacher I believe, who has started giving me rides home after school.  She speaks minimal English, and doesn't make any attempts to converse.  So we sit in silence, sharing yawns and dried mango pieces.  Occasionally I say something like "Are you tired" and she says yes and we laugh, and I feel better as though I have fulfilled my conversational duties. 

I fear I have stumbled into a giving war with her.  I bought Dunkin Donuts for a couple of teachers, and made sure to deliver one to her room in the morning.  A few days later, she offered me a Korean equivalent of a Malomar (a cookie made of marshmellow, biscuit and chocolate), and insisted that I take another one home.  I'm pretty sure it's my turn next.

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Behaving very politely at the DMZ

My trip to the DMZ

South Korea, click to enlarge

I live in Paju, which is a large city/county that borders the Demilitarized Zone.  Paju is pretty large, and I'm not in the town (Munsan) directly on the border, but I'm pretty close – about half an hour away by bus. 

My group used the USO (United Service Organization, affiliated with the US military base) to book and provide the tour, which meant that our tour was conducted by some extremely well-briefed army officers.  Our tour cost 96,000 won each (82 dollars), but I believe there are cheaper options.  Wed did everything available and it lasted from about 9-5 (including travel time).  Check out their Korea site for more information on how to book. 

DMZ Tour Rules:

1) Conservative clothing.  No bellies, shoulders, or shorts.  Nothing baggy, no skirts, no open toed shoes.

2) Absolutely no gestures toward N. Korea/N. Korea soldiers when at the DMZ.  Our guide's mantra went like this: "Do not wave, gesture, point, or attempt any communication with N. Korea."  Basically don't give N.K. an excuse to start some friendly fire.  This rule was rather one-sided: our tour guide told us that the North Korean soldiers liked to amuse themselves with flicking S.K. off, or miming slitting throats.

3) The U.S. and S.K. will not be held responsible for your death/injury at the hands of NK.  Really.  I signed the paper.  Actually, just read the paper for the actual rules.

        







































Stepping into North Korea at the JSA (Joint Security Area)

The only place on the DMZ where you can actually (safely) step foot into North Korea is in a small blue conference hut (the MAC conference room), half of which is in N.K.  Two S.K. guards were posted inside with us, and we quietly walked around, taking photos and nervously laughing about our location. 

When an S.K. or N.K. tour group (yes, N.K. also finds the DMZ profitable) uses the room, the other side stays out.  Our guide told us that he'd been on tours where N.K. soldiers made faces through the windows or stood up against the windows with binoculars, staring in at the group.

Notable moments in the MAC room include NK soldiers blowing their nose/wiping their foot on the US and ROK (SK) flags, prompting a switch to small flags inside a plexiglass cover.  Also, there was once an 11 and a half hour meeting between the sides (nick-named "the battle of the bladders") which lasted so long because no one wanted to get up to go to the bathroom first.

I didn't bring my camera into the MAC room because I didn't realize we were allowed, so the following pictures were taken by my friends Anel and Area:

blowing a kiss to the ROK soldier on duty in the MAC room at the DMZ

our group standing in North Korea.  or possibly South Korea.  I forget which side is which.

And of course, my iphone:

Area approaching the guard

ROK guard in the MAC room

Hey buddy

outside view

I want to say that this is North Korea and I didn't just take a totally random scenery shot. 

My wonderful friend Area planned and booked the trip, and wrote a great blog post about it which has lots of historical information.  Check it out.

And if you want a video of a tour pretty similar to ours:

Dorasan station: Area chilling in front of the unused train that connects NK to SK

DMZ sign at the 3rd Infiltration Tunnel. Ross and I have gone native with our poses.

About to look across into N.K.

With 10 minutes to kill, we're obviously going to make a DMZ sign with our bodies.

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When cross cultural exchange backfires

Recently I have been teaching two kids privately after school for 40 minutes.  A giant (and apparently important) 6th grade exam is coming up, and most of the kids are in extra lessons after school.  When I saw the students who were coming for help in English, my first question was "Where are the other fifteen 6th graders who can't read?"

Apparently those kids are bad in other subjects as well, so they're using their extra help time elsewhere.  This makes me feel a slight bit better - I'm not actually destroying many of the kids in my classes: they are generally poor students. 

Today after class, the kids wanted to hang out in the English room for an extra 15 minutes before their next class.  I agreed, and showed them a couple of Mr. Bean clips to kill time.  Which led to cultural exchange backfire #1: teacher showed us a video with nudity in it!

Ummm.  Yes.  Guilty.  I totally forgot that in the hilarious Mr. Bean clip where he goes to the pool (see above) ends in him losing his swimming shorts and includes a close up of his naked behind (ironically one of the words we're learning: in front of, between, behind).  This isn't a huge deal, but it was totally unexpected, and Korean attitudes toward sex/nudity are pretty conservative.  I'm pretty sure the sensuality of Mr. Bean's butt is somewhere between shredded paper and an oak tree, so I think I'm in the clear. (Yes those were weird examples, but try and think of something completely non-sensual.  Difficult, right?)

Cross Cultural Exchange Backfire #2 

After I shared my Mr. Bean videos, the 11-year-old boy I tutor got really excited about sharing a video with me.  This seemed fine, especially as it was a music video, and I'm interested in gaining an appreciation for Korean music.

I cannot for the life of me find the video he played me, but it's probably best that I don't share it here.  It was a sort of melodic rap, and the video consisted of a series of childlike pencil sketches on writing paper.  First a sketch of an unhappy guy.  Then other kids.  I think they were making fun of him.  A woman appears.  He grabs her.  Suddenly there is red crayon everywhere, which is supposed to be blood.  A sketch of a knife covered in blood.  It continues.

I turned it off about halfway through and looked at my little sixth grader who liked the song so much.  He is skinny and short, with nerd glasses and a goofy grin.  Adorable.  I asked about the dead woman - "Teacher?" "No. Girlfriend." That made me feel a bit better.

"Why?" I asked, and then Google translated (이유).  


He typed something into Google translate that came out as "I like scary sad fdjaklhgfkdlsghjl" (Google translate's forte isn't Korean.)  


"Why?" I asked again.  (Why do you like this violent video when you are so cute and sweet and young?)

He typed again.  "Just dafshkj."  Just.  Just because. 

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Creating a music video with my sixth graders

Music is a key component of ESL teaching – or any teaching for that matter.  Sticking a tune onto information is a terrific memory aid, and I still remember song lyrics I learned in 2nd grade.  About a year and a half ago, I discovered The Beatles are the ultimate pop band for teaching English.  I'm not sure what it says about a band that a vast number of their song lyrics are ESL-friendly, but I've always been a huge Beatles fan, so I like to think of it as beautiful, universal simplicity. 

Check out the following ESL Beatles lyrics:

You say yes,
I say no,
You say stop,
and I say go go go.
Oh no.
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello.
Hello, hello.

And

Love, love me do.
You know I love you.
I'll always be true.
So please love me do.

These songs are just asking to have a few fake sign language gestures slapped on and explained to low level English speakers.

They come up with some weird poses

**

Our sixth grade classes are terrifying, with unnaturally high percentages of ADHD and English haters (different than English apatheticers).  However, SH and I are slowly starting to understand the personality of each class.  6-1 likes busywork and translating.  They aren't big on games.  6-3 likes drawing and singing; they aren't big on writing.  6-2 is...currently a lost cause. 

So on Friday we had 6-3 draw pictures to decorate lyrics to a song about calling someone.  It's in Korean and English, and includes most of the key phrases from Unit 6.  Here's the video (the freeze frames are not glitches, I just didn't take enough time to make them look cool):





  

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Stages of Culture Shock

I wanted to this post right, I really did.  I was going to do a bunch of research and cite sources and integrate quotes from sources, and go all out.  Instead, I started to read the first scholarly article about culture shock that appeared on Google, and I got overwhelmed.  Mostly by the nonuserfriendly format, but also by the realization (after skimming a few paragraphs) that this was one of several theories on the stages of culture shock. I regoogled for a simpler format, and the next article I saw was titled Plasmodium falciparum erythrocytic stages in culture.

All of that to say, the information I bring you today will be based largely on personal experience and Wikipedia.  You are warned.

According to Wikipedia, there are four phases of Culture Shock: 

• 1.1 Honeymoon phase
• 1.2 Negotiation phase
• 1.3 Adjustment phase
• 1.4 Mastery phase

The Honeymoon phase is exactly what it sounds like – the idealized and exciting beginning of your new relationship with a country (in this case, Korea).  Everything is so fascinating and so thrilling and different and you're so happy to be out of your homecountrywheretherewasnotrueappreciationofyournaturalabilitytospeakenglish.  You very seriously consider kidnapping a few of the local children who are unbelievably adorable.


The Negotiation phase happens around three months in, when you start to realize just what you've committed yourself to – a strange land where people stare at you and eat stupid food and speak some sort of nonsense dialect and can't even properly replicate American fast food without adding their own twists (corn on pizza???).  Your life is filled with slow motion shots: You shaking your head as your students cannot remember a single word of yesterday's lesson; your co-teacher tapping you on the shoulder to tell you about a surprise meeting; the chicken guy staring at you blankly as you try to explain your order.  Everything is frustrating. 


The Adjustment phase (month 6-12) is when life starts to normalize and you accept your routine and other parts of the experience.  Kimchi starts to grow on you, you've figured out some functional communication skills, and you've made friends – friends, mom! – and you no longer get lost on every form of public transportation you use.  You shrug off or smile down the stares, and you learn how to use local ingredients in your toaster oven to make tasty creations.  If it doesn't feel like home, it doesn't feel so foreign either.  


The Mastery phase occurs when you are fully comfortable in your new culture.  Thinking about your life in your home country feels distant, and it almost feels strange to go back.  


**

You stick out as an expat.

Those were my interpretations of Wikipedia's descriptions as applied to Korea.  While, like most theories, they serve as a useful general guideline, they definitely haven't corresponded with my time here yet.  I think they vary greatly from person to person, but I also think that they are extremely fluid – at any point in your new country you might feel like a mix of all four phases.  For example, I still feel positive and enthusiastic about being here (phase 1), while occasionally getting frustrated (phase 2), and feeling strangely adjusted (phase 3); and my old life feels very far away (phase 4).


But, of course, I personally have had some advantages.  I have lived overseas before, I have lived away from family before, I was blessed to meet some great people early on, and I have an unnatural amount of endorphins or something – I generally enjoy myself.


Still, the whole business of working/living overseas is a strange one.  It's hard to describe – especially to people who have never traveled aside from vacations and destination weddings and class trips.  Committing to something for a year or more is enormously different than visiting somewhere for a week, or even a summer or semester.  A year is a countable fraction of your life.  It means decorating your apartment and joining a gym and figuring out bargains when grocery shopping.  There might be an end in sight, but it's four seasons away.  It's Thanksgiving, Christmas, Independence Day, birthdays, and weddings spent away from family and friends.  And working in a foreign country is different than studying or vacationing – it's communicating with locals, and dealing with different corporate practices, and getting a bank, cell phone, internet, etc.  


We probably all need therapists

Because living overseas is a crazy mix of emotions that don't make sense, and are hard to sort.  Also, most of us are kind of weird.  Like not just "leave your country for an adventure and money" weird, but fully, certifiably, "couldn't make friends or date in my home country so I'll test out Korea and they'll accept me because they'll attribute my weirdness to my foreignness" weird.  OK – I actually haven't met too many crazies, but I hear they're out there.  


Back to my original point: I generally feel conflicted when I stop and think about my life here.  I really like it.  I like my job.  I like Koreans.  I like most of the food.  I like my apartment. I like my friends. I could make a giant list of what I like.  But I miss a lot of things. And some of them are identical to my like list: I miss food variety. I miss my friends. I miss my non-early morning job. I miss my family.

And then, this is where it gets confusing: I know that the things I miss are not real things. They are memories of things.  My non-early morning job was parttime and was not cutting it.  My family is absolutely nuts. My friends have their own lives now.


Also, I know that the things I don't like aren't so different than in the States.  9-5 office jobs in the States are soul sucking.  Though my co-teacher springs last minute things on me, I like her and she is far better than having a nasty boss back home.  Things in Korean culture that seem bizarre or illogical are totally trumped by every DMV experience I've had in America.


I really do miss food variety though.


My experience has been a generally positive one.

Sure I get scared by the constant yelling in the supermarket and the drag racers who moonlight as local bus drivers.  I get tired of the language barrier and overwhelmed by the difficulties of everyday tasks like reading menus and hunting down baking soda.  But I'm learning so much about myself, about culture, and human nature.  I've met a spectrum of Koreans – wonderfully kind, very nerdy, strangely rude, shy, friendly, etc. – the same people you meet everywhere.  It's hard to imagine how different life here would be if I understood the language and could communicate with my neighbors and co-workers, and read the local news, and navigate effortlessly.  

I know that there are many legitimate horror stories about both public and private positions in Korea; contracts constantly changed, non-existent co-workers, schools that insist on hunting you down at the hospital if you take sick leave, etc.  On the other hand, there are many wonderful jobs that offer a great quality of life and working conditions.  I think the majority of jobs lie somewhere in between: good benefits, decent co-workers, but some annoying conditions that are livable.  That's life.  

If you are reading this as a homesick foreigner, cheer up.

Things could be worse.  You could be in my situation – I don't have a home to miss.  I grew up in six different countries, went to college in California, and my family is currently in Europe.  When I miss things about America, I'm generally referring to California, in which I have lived a total of four years.  My driver's license is Texan, my grandparents are in Connecticut, and my siblings are in the Midwest. 

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The Deal with Open Classes

I just realized that I should put a warning somewhere on my blog, but I'm not sure where to put it yet, so for the moment I'll write it here:

Potential ESL teachers – your Korean experience will probably differ quite extensively from mine.  Aside from vast differences amongst jobs here – pay, bosses, co-teachers, food, students, location etc., something that will really affect your time in Korea is your attitude.  And, to be honest, I'm a person who is almost obnoxiously positive (and laid back). Really.  I have to tone it down in social situations because it often comes across as not being empathetic – people want someone to commiserate with, not assure them of the silver lining.  You've probably met someone like me and are getting annoyed just thinking about him/her.  Don't worry, I'm not that bad.  I'm recovering slowly.  I even have tiring days now and then; I just bounce back really quickly and tend to forget about them.  The key is bad memory. And probably some sort of hormonal imbalance.  Whatever.    

All of that to say, I don't find Open Classes to be stressful at all.  But you might.  So I thought I'd share about them, as nobody warned me that they would be part of the job description before I came.

An open class is a class that is designated as special "viewing" class, and they happen a few times a year.  I've had two so far (I've been here three months); one for the Vice Principal to observe/evaluate, and one for parents to attend.  The third type of open class is for visiting teachers to watch and get ideas/be inspired by/stareyoudownforbeatingtheirschoolatvolleyball.

In the spirit of this blog, I've uploaded a video of my fifth graders practicing directions by orienting their blindfolded teammate.

The Deal with Open Classes in Korean Public Schools

1) Open Classes are the one event you are guaranteed to be given plenty of advanced warning for by your co-teacher.  I was told from week 1 that these would be taking place (and the general months they would occur), and I think I got at least two week's notice for the specific dates.  

2) They are considered a big deal.  Or, at least my co-teacher found them both extremely stressful and intimidating.  She's a new teacher (to the school and to the profession), so the nerves were partly based on inexperience, but I think that generally Open Classes are taken very seriously.  As they should be – nobody, in any country, is going to take an evaluation by bosses/customers (the parents) lightly.

3) You get to choose the class you want to be observed. (At least in my school you do.)  This meant that we were able to chose our darling fifth grade class that not only enjoys learning, but is fairly bright (students picking up quickly on concepts = reflection on my excellent teaching abilities), and extremely well-behaved.

4) The planning is more detailed for an Open Class.  You pick a game you know the kids will love, and carefully plan out the teaching switches; for example, when SH is confirming lesson objectives I will be setting up the powerpoint and know the exact moment when she will finish her lessons and I will start mine.  SH (my co-teacher) reminded me not to fold my arms and to praise the students for correct answers.  She was required to submit a lesson plan. 

5) If you are in a public school, you will get to practice the lesson on another class before doing it as an Open Class.  (And you can practice in Hogwans too. His description is quite different than my experience though.)  This is because you teach the same lesson several times a week to the different classes in the grade.  Getting to "practice" on the class before is invaluable for timing, jokes, and general smoothness.

6) The guests will come in and sit down at the back of the classroom (or wherever you stick them).  They don't participate.  Sometimes they have evaluation forms to fill out.  

So basically an Open Class is just a carefully planned lesson which feels a bit more like a performance than usual.  Our kids are only too eager to join in the facade, and they are much better behaved on these days.  As a teacher you will be expected to be fun, engaging, loud, and complimentary.  

They honestly aren't much different than my normal classes, except they run smoother because of extra prep, and the kids are more respectful.  I don't mind Open Classes at all.  But then, I grew up in theater, so I enjoy performing.  

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Cookie Day and Body Image

"What is Cookie Day?" SH (my co-teacher) asked me.

"I don't know.  A day to eat cookies? I replied, a bit confused. Then it dawned on me.  "It's not in the book is it?"

"Yes! Look."  She showed me the sentences we would be teaching our grade 5's:

"Cookie Day is on May 7. We will enjoy the cookies and help poor people."

Ah.

The no bakes I have created in my ovenless existence

"Why don't you know what is Cookie Day?" she smiled.

"We don't celebrate it."  I laughed.

"I have a friend who is a teacher.  She has another foreign teacher.  Her foreign teacher knows what is Cookie Day."

I found this hard to believe; regardless, I have no idea what induced the curriculum writers to include such a random holiday in our dialogues.  Even if there's a mysterious foreign teacher out there who knows exactly what it is.

I guess I'll just have to suck it up and celebrate.

Obesity in the classroom

During my first few days teaching, I was surprised at the amount of overweight kids in my classes.  Around 40% of my 5th and 6th graders are overweight/obese, which actually confirms the OECD statistics.  I haven't properly researched the topic, but my former co-worker told me that the government had become concerned over childhood obesity rates. 

Before coming here, I had been under the impression that Koreans were shaped differently (they are), and simply didn't gain large quantities of weight because of diet/lifestyle/genetics.  Yeah - I was pretty ignorant.  Now that I'm here I've seen my fare share of bigger Koreans, including men and women who are simply big boned and tall.

Still, the same general impression of Korean men and women being shorter, slimmer, and - yes - cuter, has held true.  I don't know if this general cuteness is the result or the cause of the Korean emphasis on beauty and dieting.  A lot of statistics are thrown around about SK's obsession with plastic surgery, and the one that caught my attention can be found in this Economist article – Korea is the highest plastic surgery consumer (per capita) in the world.  (Check out the link for more information; the statistics include non-invasive cosmetic enhancements like Botox.)

Girl's Generation

Public pressure

My question is: Numbers aside, is the pressure on women to be thin/pretty greater in Korea or in the States?  I think Korea takes the cake.  Both cultures have a strong media presence which streams photoshopped images of impossibly thin, attractive women with flawless skin.  (They don't agree on all their beauty standards, but that's for another post.)  However, in Korea, the beauty obsession is much more public –  your co-workers, family, and friends will have no qualms telling you that you look "off" today or that you've gained weight, or should wear more/less makeup.

Also, in Korea the standard of beauty seems to be more monogamous and accepted than in the States.  I haven't seen as much of a counter protest against the skinny=perfect mantra – in the States there are nonstop articles questioning the weight-obsession; and celebrities and ordinary folk alike have taken a stand.  There are American actresses, celebrated for their beauty, who are not size zero - Sophia Vergara (the hottie on Modern Family), Scarlett Johansson,  Kate Winslet, etc.  *To be honest, I don't watch Korean T.V. or read articles, but the general impression that I get is that the standard of beauty is more rigid (super skinny, "small face", pale skin), and less challenged (I've yet to hear a Korean complain about these expectations, but I've heard many enforce them.)

I haven't put a lot of research into this, but if you google "korea weight obsession", you'll get plenty of anecdotes about the topic.

Korean idols

My "fat" co-worker

Here's my anecdote to add to the bunch: my co-teacher, who is tiny, as in size zero (or probably negative with all the vanity sizing now), regularly complains about her weight.  But she doesn't do it in a "I really wanna lose three pounds" American way to get the – "Oh but you're so skinny" response.  She genuinely seems to believe it, and gets bummed out by the fact that she likes food so much and can't bring herself to stop eating.  Also – and I have no way to verify this – apparently her boyfriend has been agreeing that she needs to lose weight.  It boggles my mind.  I would literally diagnose her as anorexic, except that she isn't starving herself.  The other day she told me she wanted to take her cardigan off, but couldn't because she of her fat arms.  And, when I can't help but tell her she was being stupid (yes, I used those words), she said I didn't know because I hadn't actually seen her tiny little stomach that does not pooch out in her dresses, jeans, or skirts.

But, genuine or not, the weight conversation gets old.  Now when it comes up, I just role my eyes, tell her to stop being dumb, and constantly advise her to break up with her boyfriend.  He's not too thrilled about me, but I'm not too thrilled about him either. 

Gentlemen; when you tell your girlfriend she's fat, it not only ruins her week, but her co-worker's week.    

Naturally, when I hear things like this, I wonder if it's only self criticism, or if she happens to think that I'm a mammoth.  I'm pretty slim, but I do have hips and thighs, and – horror – arms.  I probably look like King Kong to her.  (I have at least 5 inches on her).

Other factors

I don't think that I personally have a strong enough understanding of the pressure on women in Korea to look a certain way.  I can't imagine being hounded by my parents over my weight.  I can't imagine growing up going into stores and literally not being able my (non obese) size.  I can't imagine having friends tell me that I've gotten uglier.

It's not that other countries don't pressure their women (and men!) – it's that they aren't as direct.  And there's something to be said for that. 

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