The students. This weather. My co-teachers, friends and the families I know here. The coffee shops and food and even the fucking department stores.
How am I ever going to make it out of here alive?
Today a load of things happened, which are typical of every one of my weekdays here. Like teaching the older students a joke in English and watching their faces crumble under the force of far too much laughter, for how funny it actually was. Or having the little ones tug on my sleeves and absent-mindedly lay their hands on my arms, or play with my bracelets, while I'm explaining an answer. Answering the phone on my desk with confidence that it's ringing for me -- a co-teacher in the office downstairs wanting to see if I'd like to catch a movie next week.
Going to Bucheon after work to meet my two young and only female 'students' for some seriously epic "μ" λκΉμ€. Walking through the park after, the little one clinging to my hand, as curious bystanders watch, a little puzzled, but all smiling. Sitting in the coffee shop with one of them after, and having the young mothers allow their little babies to toddle over and climb right up into my lap. Drinking literally the best cup of coffee I've had since setting foot in the ROK, and watching my ten year old companion giggle and squirm as I threatened to go over and shake the hand of the barista who made it, congratulating him on his talent.
And the shopping. Before I came to Korea, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone more anti-consumerism. I'm not proud of it, but wandering through the brilliant department stores on a quiet, well-lit weeknight. Petting the sweaters, lusting over shoes I can't fit into (and even finding some I can) and actually contemplating paying $150 for a bag. The bored employees keeping a respectful, non-frenzied distance for once, in the final hours before closing. The sleekly dressed young salarymen lighting each other's cigarettes on the sidewalk outside, as the sun goes down and the neon starts to flash on up the sides of all the buildings.
Tomorrow I'll teach four lovely classes to shockingly eager and engaged students, go to the new coffee shop to chat with the barista in broken Korean and finish my book, come home and do the laundry, go to bed early so that I can wake up and return to the department store early on Saturday (before the crowds) to pick up a few nice things for the changing weather. Meet two lovely young ladies in Seoul for dinner, clubbing, and no doubt at least a little gossiping.
I don't know, kiddies. Will I make it out in a year? If they make me go, I will. And I'll probably love the next place just as much, with a little time. But this place has been amazing to me. A year is a long time previous to begin pining. I need to get it together. But it's nice to appreciate the things that you have, while you still have them.
9.30.2010
9.28.2010
Lovely day in the neighborhood.
The boys were beyond epic today. I don't know what got into them. Yesterday was a drag because none of us were happy to be back from vacation, but today the kiboon in the school was amazing. They were cracking me up at every turn, not the least source of which being a new game the third graders have come up with that seems to be based on being as creepy as possible, and suggesting that I punch the principal in the face for making them do seven class. Some of them explained to me what eye drops are for, which I allowed to go on for a while before pointing out that, even though I can't speak Korean that well, we do actually have eye drops in the US.
Had a few slipups with Korean in front of the first graders, who are as of yet unaware of how much I can speak and understand. The first came when one was complaining in Korean that he couldn't see the board, and I moved out of the way. The second wasn't so much a slipup, as it was encountering a very flustered low level student who became mortified when I was attempting to help him complete the assignment. He turned beet red and froze up entirely, so I just quietly whispered the question to him in Korean to bring down the level of tension. Of course, as soon as my back was turned, he told the rest of the class what had happened. And then I slipped with a sort of, "What's going on over there?" muttering under my breath, which led to the entire class haranguing me to speak Korean. When I refused, they came at me with the ol' "This is Korea" argument. I explained that if they see me outside of school, I'll speak to them in Korean. Inside, however, we speak English. Just then the bell rang, and they quickly justified their demands with the fact that English class was officially over. No-go, charlies. Sorry.
Walking home in this gorgeous weather, and it was one of those days where the mood is so good that they're crowding around in bunches to chat, and hanging out of bus windows by the dozen to wave as they pass by. If only they could be so lovely all of the time.
Stopped to buy ddeok on my way home, where the woman inside asked me if I eat "our country's" food well. It still always makes me grin a bit when they call it "our country" directly to me. I wonder if they even stop to think about it.
Walked over to check out the new coffee shop which just popped up out of nowhere in the dong a couple of weeks ago. It's quite small, but has just about all you could desire (other than a smoking room, but there is one small table on the sidewalk outside -- unfortunately positioned directly beside a bus stop, which leads to a bit too much extended curious gawking, if you just so happen to be a foreigner sitting there). The guy behind the counter descended into a complete panic when I first walked in, as he looked behind him and realized the entire menu was written in Korean, with not a spot of English in sight. I quickly reassured him that it was fine, I could read Korean, before he just up and fled the scene (which he looked tempted to do for a moment).
Then home to take a nice hot shower to relax the muscles and clear out a bit of a cold that's been working on me the last week or so. Hot cup of coffee now, and some veggie udong and mandoo on my mind (and in the fridge). A good book to finish.
Can I really leave this place in a year? On days like this one, I just don't know. Starting over from scratch is a big endeavor, but that doesn't really put me off. It's more of what I might be missing. But that's a two-sided coin, isn't it?
Had a few slipups with Korean in front of the first graders, who are as of yet unaware of how much I can speak and understand. The first came when one was complaining in Korean that he couldn't see the board, and I moved out of the way. The second wasn't so much a slipup, as it was encountering a very flustered low level student who became mortified when I was attempting to help him complete the assignment. He turned beet red and froze up entirely, so I just quietly whispered the question to him in Korean to bring down the level of tension. Of course, as soon as my back was turned, he told the rest of the class what had happened. And then I slipped with a sort of, "What's going on over there?" muttering under my breath, which led to the entire class haranguing me to speak Korean. When I refused, they came at me with the ol' "This is Korea" argument. I explained that if they see me outside of school, I'll speak to them in Korean. Inside, however, we speak English. Just then the bell rang, and they quickly justified their demands with the fact that English class was officially over. No-go, charlies. Sorry.
Walking home in this gorgeous weather, and it was one of those days where the mood is so good that they're crowding around in bunches to chat, and hanging out of bus windows by the dozen to wave as they pass by. If only they could be so lovely all of the time.
Stopped to buy ddeok on my way home, where the woman inside asked me if I eat "our country's" food well. It still always makes me grin a bit when they call it "our country" directly to me. I wonder if they even stop to think about it.
Walked over to check out the new coffee shop which just popped up out of nowhere in the dong a couple of weeks ago. It's quite small, but has just about all you could desire (other than a smoking room, but there is one small table on the sidewalk outside -- unfortunately positioned directly beside a bus stop, which leads to a bit too much extended curious gawking, if you just so happen to be a foreigner sitting there). The guy behind the counter descended into a complete panic when I first walked in, as he looked behind him and realized the entire menu was written in Korean, with not a spot of English in sight. I quickly reassured him that it was fine, I could read Korean, before he just up and fled the scene (which he looked tempted to do for a moment).
Then home to take a nice hot shower to relax the muscles and clear out a bit of a cold that's been working on me the last week or so. Hot cup of coffee now, and some veggie udong and mandoo on my mind (and in the fridge). A good book to finish.
Can I really leave this place in a year? On days like this one, I just don't know. Starting over from scratch is a big endeavor, but that doesn't really put me off. It's more of what I might be missing. But that's a two-sided coin, isn't it?
9.26.2010
Great Chinese proverb.
It's a little sad to face the day today, as gorgeous and sunny as it may be. Why? Because, for most of us here, this is the last day of any kind of significant break we'll get for the next 4-5 months, until winter vacation. Even those measly little holidays called Christmas and the New Year will fall on weekends this year, so we'll all be at the mercy of our discerning gyojangnims.
Le sigh, etc. What I really know, is that the next four months are actually going to fly by. And then I'm going to find myself staring straight into the face of a looming six month mark until I have to make a decision (and, more importantly, a practical plan) for what I'm going to do next. And I really don't want to. I'm getting old and set in my ways. And lazier by the year. Possibly, day.
But I can feel a cycle beginning to end, and something new is playing around the corners, already. Gotta make peace with whatever it was I came out here to find, before I've gone on and forgotten to find it.
Mags and I used to joke that Korea would be the Paris of our generation. IE, where we'd go to recover and get our finances technically in order, after we'd fucked our lives in the States in some ways. Or life had fucked us -- either way. Write and pay our bills for a while. Except it's nothing like Paris at all. And neither of us did much writing while we were here. But now Mags is pinned back up in a program out west, and I've spent the morning copy editing. I met this kid this week -- so fucking nonchalant about life, and things, like we all were at his age. Friday night I read this great thing he wrote -- just sat down and wrote, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I would imagine -- and woke up yesterday to clear the deck of plans, when I found that something had finally broken through.
What I mean -- and I don't really want to say it, because it feels maudlin, which is what I've really been dealing with this whole time, self-conscious about taking myself seriously -- is that it's time to figure out what kind of priorities I'm going to have. On the first day I started my program, as a spirited and melodramatic 18 year old, our professor told us, "If you think you can do anything other than writing and be happy, then do it." Cheesy as fuck, right? But I've spent two years trying to sort that out. And I think I'm almost finally ready to answer that question. Even if I still don't technically know what the answer will be.
Drivel. Utter drivel. I hate myself. And I'm going to unplug the internet again and go back to editing now. As Smalltown is so fond of saying....
"Well you know what that great Chinese proverb says?"
"No. What does it say?"
"Eh, fuck it."
Le sigh, etc. What I really know, is that the next four months are actually going to fly by. And then I'm going to find myself staring straight into the face of a looming six month mark until I have to make a decision (and, more importantly, a practical plan) for what I'm going to do next. And I really don't want to. I'm getting old and set in my ways. And lazier by the year. Possibly, day.
But I can feel a cycle beginning to end, and something new is playing around the corners, already. Gotta make peace with whatever it was I came out here to find, before I've gone on and forgotten to find it.
Mags and I used to joke that Korea would be the Paris of our generation. IE, where we'd go to recover and get our finances technically in order, after we'd fucked our lives in the States in some ways. Or life had fucked us -- either way. Write and pay our bills for a while. Except it's nothing like Paris at all. And neither of us did much writing while we were here. But now Mags is pinned back up in a program out west, and I've spent the morning copy editing. I met this kid this week -- so fucking nonchalant about life, and things, like we all were at his age. Friday night I read this great thing he wrote -- just sat down and wrote, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I would imagine -- and woke up yesterday to clear the deck of plans, when I found that something had finally broken through.
What I mean -- and I don't really want to say it, because it feels maudlin, which is what I've really been dealing with this whole time, self-conscious about taking myself seriously -- is that it's time to figure out what kind of priorities I'm going to have. On the first day I started my program, as a spirited and melodramatic 18 year old, our professor told us, "If you think you can do anything other than writing and be happy, then do it." Cheesy as fuck, right? But I've spent two years trying to sort that out. And I think I'm almost finally ready to answer that question. Even if I still don't technically know what the answer will be.
Drivel. Utter drivel. I hate myself. And I'm going to unplug the internet again and go back to editing now. As Smalltown is so fond of saying....
"Well you know what that great Chinese proverb says?"
"No. What does it say?"
"Eh, fuck it."
9.24.2010
Questions, questions: On the older sibling/younger sibling aspect of Korean culture.
I'm a real asshole. I know. You don't have to tell me. I've had a few really great questions sitting around for a long time, which I need to do. There's one in particular that I've been mulling over all week about isolation and being an outsider in Korea, which is a huge enough topic on its own, but the asker was referencing a situation where kids are involved. And that's just hard for me, because a. I'm not a parent and b. part of the reason I have a hard time ever imagining myself as a parent is because I know how vicious and Godfatheresque psychotic I would be when it came to protecting my kids from anything that could be hurtful to them. Some of the shit I've been through myself here in Korea -- sure, no sweat. I can handle that. Apply that same thing to someone of my kin who I perceive as being younger or more vulnerable than me, and I don't think I'd take it so much in stride. So. I'm having to ponder on that one, a bit.
But here's a nicer one, which I think I can handle on this beautiful sunny vacation morning:
I really enjoy reading your blog. I was wondering if I could get your thoughts on something that I think is one of the best parts of Korean culture: The oppa/hyung/unni/noona & dongsaeng relationship. Because of my own Asian cultural background, I have some experience with this kind of social construct, but I was wondering how others might view it. It can be especially confusing, I think, because of the role it plays in dating sometimes.
Thanks for you time, and thanks for writing.
Yesterday when I met Whiskey and his own "jinjjah hyeong", who's visiting from out of town, for a lovely club sandwich minus pickles, corn and coleslaw in an open-air pub in Itaewon, we got onto this very subject. The short answer is, I also think it's one of Korean culture's best features. When it's handled appropriately.
A lot of my post-New York friends were a little baffled when I took the hierarchy structure within Korean culture like a fish to water. It didn't seem like me. But what they were missing was the perspective of my own upbringing which, while not in the slightest bit Asian influenced, was heavily conservative in many ways. I was brought up in a strict household with regard for manners and respect for elders. I was not unaccustomed to yes-ma'ams and no-sirs and "because I told you to" and "speak when you're spoken to". While I don't believe that individual respect for people should be doled out solely based on age, or other external factors, I'm not unfamiliar with the concept of respecting the position a person holds, regardless of how you feel about them as an individual, and, for lack of a better way of putting it, knowing my place. Whether it's something I like or not, it is something I can do and do well. Not getting a smack on the ass throughout my childhood largely depended on me developing this ability. And it's served me very well in my workplace, where I don't have the seemingly daily struggle some other foreigners do with "why should I?"s. I don't have to know why -- I know that I have to, and that's that. Because that's the way it is. Because they told me to.
Furthermore, it's something that you learn as you get older that, whether you like someone or not, there are reasons why you should show them respect. Namely, that you don't know everything that you think you know, and people who are older are not always wiser, but generally, no matter what kind of a fuckup they are, they do probably know a few things a bit better than you do. And also, when someone is in a position of taking care of you or providing for you in some way, you owe that person a certain degree of respect whether you like them or not.
All of these things are aspects that I find a little lacking in a lot of modern versions of American culture. And I like that they are big, inherent parts of Korean culture. Nothing drives this home more than being a teacher, and watching young teenage boys struggle with their developing suspicions that they understand everything in the world better than any adult ever could, but having to yield to what an adult is telling them is best out of respect. As we all know, there's very little they actually understand better than their teachers or parents, even if their teachers and parents are not so good sometimes at understanding how they feel. That concept of accepting someone else's authority on a subject, even when you feel in your very heart of hearts that they are wrong, has saved their little hides more times than I can mention.
When the older brother/sister - younger brother/sister system is used in what I understand to be the traditional, correct way within Korean culture, it's a really beautiful thing. The idea that even if your whole family is gone, anyone in your life who is older than you by even a year is obliged to look after you is incredibly reassuring. That family aspect of Korean culture has saved me from feeling lonely and lost here so many times. I don't find myself outside of that, as a foreigner -- it's too intrinsic to Koreans for them to let you escape it, even if they do still marvel at your ability to use chopsticks.
As I've mentioned many times before, I'm a very prideful person. And part of what I was looking for in coming to a foreign country was conquering a large portion of that pride by making of myself a total idiot. But the payback, in that regard, has come in the form of a culture that doesn't condescend to the concept of asking for help. There is a whole network of people I have access to, who not only do not mind if I ask stupid questions or for assistance with a million asinine things, they believe it is their obligation to be as helpful as possible. They are older and more experienced than I am -- it's only natural that they would be the ones, regardless of their complete lack of personal investment, to step in and show me the ropes. And a lifetime of doing these kinds of tasks has given them a kind of grace about it. I never feel as though I'm putting someone out, or as though they are judging me to be far too incompetent when I have to ask for help with something.
Even among my boys at the school -- at first, when I arrived to find that none of the students from different grades so much as look each other in the eye while passing in the hallways, I was completely bewildered. It's a year's difference in age -- surely it doesn't matter that much? But after having over 2,000 students pass through my hallways and observing them for nearly two years, I've noticed something else, which is the times when they do interact with each other. The older students sling their arms around the younger students' shoulders, gently tease them about any number of things, while often quietly palming off candies or pieces of chocolate or a leftover something-or-another from their lunch trays. The younger students, in turn, look up at their older brothers with a kind of awe, and seem to feel lucky to have someone who pulls such rank show them this kind of attention. They know that the biggest, baddest bully in their own grade can't touch them at all, because they've got an "older brother" at the school who outranks him and could quickly and easily put him in his place.
Of course, I've seen the system abused nearly twice as often as I've seen it used in a positive way. But they're kids, and kids are assholes. I think the lessons they're learning from it on the plus side will far outweigh the way it's used to accomplish all kinds of bullying and nonsense, which -- let's face it -- would find a way of happening one way or another, regardless of the hierarchy. That they're learning at such a young age what it's like both to feel responsible for another person's well being, and also how to rely on others in a functional way, are valuable components of becoming a good person. By my own definition, of course.
I've always freely admitted that one of the biggest deficiencies I've discovered in my home culture since I've been in Korea is our general lack of interest in taking responsibility for other people, and putting aside our own pursuits and happiness at times so that other people around us may suffer less. I didn't realize how dog-eat-dog American culture can be until I came to Korea. And it's been something I've struggled with within myself most of all. It's one place in Korean culture where I can take a severe lesson, and would do well to humble myself and absorb as much of it as I possibly can. And I'm grateful for the opportunity to learn that lesson.
That having been said, as far as the dating side of things goes, I don't really know. My own feelings about the need for equality in any romantic relationship will probably always trump any sense of age-based hierarchy. I don't even allow myself to try to consider it, because I know there are some lines in my own cultural programming that I will never be able to cross, and that is one of them. It's not that I'm not familiar with the concept of one partner deferring to the other within a relationship -- it's that I'm far too fucking familiar with it (born and raised Southern Baptist, remember? don't make me start pulling quotes off their website about wives being submissive to back myself up here....) and refuse to have any part in it. I already know that's not for me, and that is not negotiable.
But here's a nicer one, which I think I can handle on this beautiful sunny vacation morning:
I really enjoy reading your blog. I was wondering if I could get your thoughts on something that I think is one of the best parts of Korean culture: The oppa/hyung/unni/noona & dongsaeng relationship. Because of my own Asian cultural background, I have some experience with this kind of social construct, but I was wondering how others might view it. It can be especially confusing, I think, because of the role it plays in dating sometimes.
Thanks for you time, and thanks for writing.
Yesterday when I met Whiskey and his own "jinjjah hyeong", who's visiting from out of town, for a lovely club sandwich minus pickles, corn and coleslaw in an open-air pub in Itaewon, we got onto this very subject. The short answer is, I also think it's one of Korean culture's best features. When it's handled appropriately.
A lot of my post-New York friends were a little baffled when I took the hierarchy structure within Korean culture like a fish to water. It didn't seem like me. But what they were missing was the perspective of my own upbringing which, while not in the slightest bit Asian influenced, was heavily conservative in many ways. I was brought up in a strict household with regard for manners and respect for elders. I was not unaccustomed to yes-ma'ams and no-sirs and "because I told you to" and "speak when you're spoken to". While I don't believe that individual respect for people should be doled out solely based on age, or other external factors, I'm not unfamiliar with the concept of respecting the position a person holds, regardless of how you feel about them as an individual, and, for lack of a better way of putting it, knowing my place. Whether it's something I like or not, it is something I can do and do well. Not getting a smack on the ass throughout my childhood largely depended on me developing this ability. And it's served me very well in my workplace, where I don't have the seemingly daily struggle some other foreigners do with "why should I?"s. I don't have to know why -- I know that I have to, and that's that. Because that's the way it is. Because they told me to.
Furthermore, it's something that you learn as you get older that, whether you like someone or not, there are reasons why you should show them respect. Namely, that you don't know everything that you think you know, and people who are older are not always wiser, but generally, no matter what kind of a fuckup they are, they do probably know a few things a bit better than you do. And also, when someone is in a position of taking care of you or providing for you in some way, you owe that person a certain degree of respect whether you like them or not.
All of these things are aspects that I find a little lacking in a lot of modern versions of American culture. And I like that they are big, inherent parts of Korean culture. Nothing drives this home more than being a teacher, and watching young teenage boys struggle with their developing suspicions that they understand everything in the world better than any adult ever could, but having to yield to what an adult is telling them is best out of respect. As we all know, there's very little they actually understand better than their teachers or parents, even if their teachers and parents are not so good sometimes at understanding how they feel. That concept of accepting someone else's authority on a subject, even when you feel in your very heart of hearts that they are wrong, has saved their little hides more times than I can mention.
When the older brother/sister - younger brother/sister system is used in what I understand to be the traditional, correct way within Korean culture, it's a really beautiful thing. The idea that even if your whole family is gone, anyone in your life who is older than you by even a year is obliged to look after you is incredibly reassuring. That family aspect of Korean culture has saved me from feeling lonely and lost here so many times. I don't find myself outside of that, as a foreigner -- it's too intrinsic to Koreans for them to let you escape it, even if they do still marvel at your ability to use chopsticks.
As I've mentioned many times before, I'm a very prideful person. And part of what I was looking for in coming to a foreign country was conquering a large portion of that pride by making of myself a total idiot. But the payback, in that regard, has come in the form of a culture that doesn't condescend to the concept of asking for help. There is a whole network of people I have access to, who not only do not mind if I ask stupid questions or for assistance with a million asinine things, they believe it is their obligation to be as helpful as possible. They are older and more experienced than I am -- it's only natural that they would be the ones, regardless of their complete lack of personal investment, to step in and show me the ropes. And a lifetime of doing these kinds of tasks has given them a kind of grace about it. I never feel as though I'm putting someone out, or as though they are judging me to be far too incompetent when I have to ask for help with something.
Even among my boys at the school -- at first, when I arrived to find that none of the students from different grades so much as look each other in the eye while passing in the hallways, I was completely bewildered. It's a year's difference in age -- surely it doesn't matter that much? But after having over 2,000 students pass through my hallways and observing them for nearly two years, I've noticed something else, which is the times when they do interact with each other. The older students sling their arms around the younger students' shoulders, gently tease them about any number of things, while often quietly palming off candies or pieces of chocolate or a leftover something-or-another from their lunch trays. The younger students, in turn, look up at their older brothers with a kind of awe, and seem to feel lucky to have someone who pulls such rank show them this kind of attention. They know that the biggest, baddest bully in their own grade can't touch them at all, because they've got an "older brother" at the school who outranks him and could quickly and easily put him in his place.
Of course, I've seen the system abused nearly twice as often as I've seen it used in a positive way. But they're kids, and kids are assholes. I think the lessons they're learning from it on the plus side will far outweigh the way it's used to accomplish all kinds of bullying and nonsense, which -- let's face it -- would find a way of happening one way or another, regardless of the hierarchy. That they're learning at such a young age what it's like both to feel responsible for another person's well being, and also how to rely on others in a functional way, are valuable components of becoming a good person. By my own definition, of course.
I've always freely admitted that one of the biggest deficiencies I've discovered in my home culture since I've been in Korea is our general lack of interest in taking responsibility for other people, and putting aside our own pursuits and happiness at times so that other people around us may suffer less. I didn't realize how dog-eat-dog American culture can be until I came to Korea. And it's been something I've struggled with within myself most of all. It's one place in Korean culture where I can take a severe lesson, and would do well to humble myself and absorb as much of it as I possibly can. And I'm grateful for the opportunity to learn that lesson.
That having been said, as far as the dating side of things goes, I don't really know. My own feelings about the need for equality in any romantic relationship will probably always trump any sense of age-based hierarchy. I don't even allow myself to try to consider it, because I know there are some lines in my own cultural programming that I will never be able to cross, and that is one of them. It's not that I'm not familiar with the concept of one partner deferring to the other within a relationship -- it's that I'm far too fucking familiar with it (born and raised Southern Baptist, remember? don't make me start pulling quotes off their website about wives being submissive to back myself up here....) and refuse to have any part in it. I already know that's not for me, and that is not negotiable.
9.21.2010
Chu-soaked: Extreme Edition.
Korea, I love you. But if I have one more ridiculous, Kafaesque thing happen as a result of your inability to adjust to the first world in terms of plumbing, we might have to break up.
Standing innocently in my kitchen just now, beginning to contemplate the attempt to come up with something edible for the first time today, and the huge drainage pipe that leads down from the roof, through my kitchen, which has been making a terrible Niagra Falls racket all day, suddenly sputters itself up into an ungodly scream, as water begins to spew out and rush across my apartment floor.
First thought: I'm not wearing any pants.
Second thought: I wonder how high the water will get before I can manage to explain what's happening sufficiently in Korean to the building ajeosshi for him to make it stop.
Third thought: I need to find some pants.
Thankfully, by the time I'd worked my way through these three complex ideas, it had died down to low, misty spray. And now all appears to be fine. But you know, Korea, putting the drainage pipes and gutters outside of the houses is not really such a novel concept.
Just saying.
Well, that's the floors cleaned, then.
Standing innocently in my kitchen just now, beginning to contemplate the attempt to come up with something edible for the first time today, and the huge drainage pipe that leads down from the roof, through my kitchen, which has been making a terrible Niagra Falls racket all day, suddenly sputters itself up into an ungodly scream, as water begins to spew out and rush across my apartment floor.
First thought: I'm not wearing any pants.
Second thought: I wonder how high the water will get before I can manage to explain what's happening sufficiently in Korean to the building ajeosshi for him to make it stop.
Third thought: I need to find some pants.
Thankfully, by the time I'd worked my way through these three complex ideas, it had died down to low, misty spray. And now all appears to be fine. But you know, Korea, putting the drainage pipes and gutters outside of the houses is not really such a novel concept.
Just saying.
Well, that's the floors cleaned, then.
Chu-soaked.
Yeah. Don't expect those puns to stop anytime soon.
Just in case anyone was wondering, my neighborhood is now a river, which smells like a sewer. I nearly died on the stairs just now, when my naive notion of "waiting for it to let up" finally caved in, and I went out for cigarette reinforcements. Why? Because the four floors of steps leading up to my apartment are stone, and the roof over them basically doesn't exist in places. And I was wearing flip-flops, which is the only reasonable thing to do when running out to the shops involves the equivalent of crossing the Congo.
It's a ghost town out there. The only life to be seen are a few lingering, bored shop vendors peering out at empty streets from under awnings and huge caravans of families crammed into vehicles with all kinds of fermented vegetables, slowly rolling out toward the freeways and various in-laws' hometowns.
As for me, I can't be bothered with this shit, honestly. I'm going to stay inside today and clean the floors, while taking breaks to sulk about not having woken up in Shanghai this morning by reading about other people's fantastic adventures Out There in the World.
And, here's a gross factoid for you: sometimes I save the cups from coffee carry-out, rinse them in my sink and refill them with homemade lattes, because I have thing for the way coffee tastes out of a paper cup. So I'm doing that as well.
Boo hoo hoo.
(Don't let me fool you with all of this. I'm exactly where I want to be, at the moment.)
Just in case anyone was wondering, my neighborhood is now a river, which smells like a sewer. I nearly died on the stairs just now, when my naive notion of "waiting for it to let up" finally caved in, and I went out for cigarette reinforcements. Why? Because the four floors of steps leading up to my apartment are stone, and the roof over them basically doesn't exist in places. And I was wearing flip-flops, which is the only reasonable thing to do when running out to the shops involves the equivalent of crossing the Congo.
It's a ghost town out there. The only life to be seen are a few lingering, bored shop vendors peering out at empty streets from under awnings and huge caravans of families crammed into vehicles with all kinds of fermented vegetables, slowly rolling out toward the freeways and various in-laws' hometowns.
As for me, I can't be bothered with this shit, honestly. I'm going to stay inside today and clean the floors, while taking breaks to sulk about not having woken up in Shanghai this morning by reading about other people's fantastic adventures Out There in the World.
And, here's a gross factoid for you: sometimes I save the cups from coffee carry-out, rinse them in my sink and refill them with homemade lattes, because I have thing for the way coffee tastes out of a paper cup. So I'm doing that as well.
Boo hoo hoo.
(Don't let me fool you with all of this. I'm exactly where I want to be, at the moment.)
9.20.2010
Margh.
Classes were horrible today. The boys actually started Chuseok vacation last night, and just took a brief break to attend school for a few hours today. It was awful.
It wasn't actually that bad, except that I've gotten a big head in the classroom these days and expect everyone to sit down and shut the fuck the very instant I suggest it. Which didn't really happen today.
I then tramped all over god's awful concrete Korean version of Earth for literally no reason. Some woman I really don't care for took it upon herself to check in with my kongbubang about whether or not there would be classes today. This is a perfect example of how, just because Koreans technically should be able to do some things better than you (ie, communicate in Korean) doesn't mean that they will be, or that you should let them. I knew I should've just handled it myself, as I always do, and texted the woman who runs the place in my crappy Korean. Then, at least, I would've received a direct response. Which I would have understood. But no. This woman tells me straight to my face right after having hung up the phone that yes, we were having classes on Monday. I show up today, to the complete bewilderment of the teachers there, who said they told the woman on the phone that they would be closed.
What happened there? Fuck only knows. The teachers were horrified, but I just smiled and repeated over and over again that it was really fine, making up a lie about how I was meeting a friend in the neighborhood anyway to cover over for their embarrassment. Because it wasn't their fault. It's also not the first time it's happened, and there's no point getting angry about something that's already done, anyhow. I was fucking exhausted from not having slept a wink last night (other than to have some extremely bizarre and somehow comical nightmares) and fighting the Spirit of Chuseok Orneriness all day at work, and didn't have the heart to "make the best of the situation" by trying to actually contact anyone I know nearby for dinner or coffee or whatever, and just dragged myself straight back to the bus.
And now I'm home. I've gorged myself on patsobbang from Paris-bloody-Baguette, which definitely doesn't count as actual food, purchased in a misguided attempt to cheer myself up after the day I've had which has resulted, instead, in making me feel rather ill, in combination with the two ginormous cappuccinos I dumped down my throat earlier in an effort to keep myself awake/alive during the two hour night sessions I have now ended up not teaching. I will now retire to bed for a full twelve hours, blowing off my plans with Smalltown, which I've only half-heartedly attempted to cancel in the form of one missed phone call.
I don't care. Are-are-are-are-are. I need some good rest if I'm to get my panties untwisted in time to enjoy my little holiday. Which I fully intend to do.
Obligatory I'm no Picasso positivity moment: My boys chasing me down all over the neighborhood this evening to shout holiday greetings and wish me a good break, with the most heart-wrenchingly genuine little smiles and waves. Even In Jae, who is a notorious pain in the ass. I knew those wretched third graders would miss me once I was gone. Suddenly my "jaemi obdah" English card games don't look so bad, in comparison to preparation for high school exams. Eh? Eh, boys?
On the upside, it's raining! Again! Happy Chu-suck.
It wasn't actually that bad, except that I've gotten a big head in the classroom these days and expect everyone to sit down and shut the fuck the very instant I suggest it. Which didn't really happen today.
I then tramped all over god's awful concrete Korean version of Earth for literally no reason. Some woman I really don't care for took it upon herself to check in with my kongbubang about whether or not there would be classes today. This is a perfect example of how, just because Koreans technically should be able to do some things better than you (ie, communicate in Korean) doesn't mean that they will be, or that you should let them. I knew I should've just handled it myself, as I always do, and texted the woman who runs the place in my crappy Korean. Then, at least, I would've received a direct response. Which I would have understood. But no. This woman tells me straight to my face right after having hung up the phone that yes, we were having classes on Monday. I show up today, to the complete bewilderment of the teachers there, who said they told the woman on the phone that they would be closed.
What happened there? Fuck only knows. The teachers were horrified, but I just smiled and repeated over and over again that it was really fine, making up a lie about how I was meeting a friend in the neighborhood anyway to cover over for their embarrassment. Because it wasn't their fault. It's also not the first time it's happened, and there's no point getting angry about something that's already done, anyhow. I was fucking exhausted from not having slept a wink last night (other than to have some extremely bizarre and somehow comical nightmares) and fighting the Spirit of Chuseok Orneriness all day at work, and didn't have the heart to "make the best of the situation" by trying to actually contact anyone I know nearby for dinner or coffee or whatever, and just dragged myself straight back to the bus.
And now I'm home. I've gorged myself on patsobbang from Paris-bloody-Baguette, which definitely doesn't count as actual food, purchased in a misguided attempt to cheer myself up after the day I've had which has resulted, instead, in making me feel rather ill, in combination with the two ginormous cappuccinos I dumped down my throat earlier in an effort to keep myself awake/alive during the two hour night sessions I have now ended up not teaching. I will now retire to bed for a full twelve hours, blowing off my plans with Smalltown, which I've only half-heartedly attempted to cancel in the form of one missed phone call.
I don't care. Are-are-are-are-are. I need some good rest if I'm to get my panties untwisted in time to enjoy my little holiday. Which I fully intend to do.
Obligatory I'm no Picasso positivity moment: My boys chasing me down all over the neighborhood this evening to shout holiday greetings and wish me a good break, with the most heart-wrenchingly genuine little smiles and waves. Even In Jae, who is a notorious pain in the ass. I knew those wretched third graders would miss me once I was gone. Suddenly my "jaemi obdah" English card games don't look so bad, in comparison to preparation for high school exams. Eh? Eh, boys?
On the upside, it's raining! Again! Happy Chu-suck.
9.18.2010
K blogging amazingness and an announcement.
I woke up this morning to find that my page hits have exceeded 100,000. While obviously quite an extraordinarily small number in comparison to most blogs out there, I find that to be amazing.
It may be a small little community, but I can honestly say that having started this blog has changed my life in the ROK. Some of the greatest people I've met during my time here have come through this blog. And I hope to continue to meet and interact with many more.
It's weird how huge the expat blogging community in South Korea is, in comparison to other countries. But I can't help but think sometimes about how dire living here as a foreigner would be without the internet. Surely most of us would figure things out eventually, but we rely so heavily on exchanging so many different kinds of information in this way. Which is to say, actually, that we rely so much on each other.
With all the in-fighting and bickering and differences of opinions, you have to appreciate the amount of thought so many different people are putting into their experiences here. Daily considering topics such as race, ethnicity, cultural differences, teaching philosophies, history and gender relations.... it's really amazing. And Korea is going to have a really fascinating record of her unique position of a changing country during this time, as observed by outsiders, as a result. There are so many people out there who work so hard on a daily basis putting thoughts and theories and information together, simply for the purpose of increasing foreigners' abilities to relate both to each other and to the foreign culture and jobs they find themselves in.
It's cool as fuck. You guys are cool as fuck. So, even though I'm about the worst ever at responding to comments and emails (out of both laziness and a genuine social awkwardness, combined), thank you for being around.
I guess now is a good a time as any to go ahead and say that, while I have obviously loved my time here in the ROK, and am by no means about to bow out and stop focusing on what's going on around me, at this point I'm quite certain that I'll be leaving next October. To go back home? Hell no. But to take on a somewhat less settled and explored situation in, hopefully, Vietnam. So after the next few months, this blog might start to shift in focus just a bit, as I start trying to get my shit together for what it's going to take to make that transition.
I love Korea. I always will. I even have the notion that I'll take a few years to live in other countries, and come back here when I'm ready to be a bit more settled. That's how much I love Korea. But I've got a feeling it's time to do something different, just for a while.
Anyway, off to celebrate my warm-fuzzies with (what else?) a lovely cup of coffee and pack of smokes. Happy Chuseok, anyway!
It may be a small little community, but I can honestly say that having started this blog has changed my life in the ROK. Some of the greatest people I've met during my time here have come through this blog. And I hope to continue to meet and interact with many more.
It's weird how huge the expat blogging community in South Korea is, in comparison to other countries. But I can't help but think sometimes about how dire living here as a foreigner would be without the internet. Surely most of us would figure things out eventually, but we rely so heavily on exchanging so many different kinds of information in this way. Which is to say, actually, that we rely so much on each other.
With all the in-fighting and bickering and differences of opinions, you have to appreciate the amount of thought so many different people are putting into their experiences here. Daily considering topics such as race, ethnicity, cultural differences, teaching philosophies, history and gender relations.... it's really amazing. And Korea is going to have a really fascinating record of her unique position of a changing country during this time, as observed by outsiders, as a result. There are so many people out there who work so hard on a daily basis putting thoughts and theories and information together, simply for the purpose of increasing foreigners' abilities to relate both to each other and to the foreign culture and jobs they find themselves in.
It's cool as fuck. You guys are cool as fuck. So, even though I'm about the worst ever at responding to comments and emails (out of both laziness and a genuine social awkwardness, combined), thank you for being around.
I guess now is a good a time as any to go ahead and say that, while I have obviously loved my time here in the ROK, and am by no means about to bow out and stop focusing on what's going on around me, at this point I'm quite certain that I'll be leaving next October. To go back home? Hell no. But to take on a somewhat less settled and explored situation in, hopefully, Vietnam. So after the next few months, this blog might start to shift in focus just a bit, as I start trying to get my shit together for what it's going to take to make that transition.
I love Korea. I always will. I even have the notion that I'll take a few years to live in other countries, and come back here when I'm ready to be a bit more settled. That's how much I love Korea. But I've got a feeling it's time to do something different, just for a while.
Anyway, off to celebrate my warm-fuzzies with (what else?) a lovely cup of coffee and pack of smokes. Happy Chuseok, anyway!
9.14.2010
The Grand Narrative and AMR: Hello. I'm a woman.
Okay. There is a whole, whole, whole lot going on here, with this post over at The Grand Narrative, which has already been carried over from this conversation over at Noona Blog. Regrettably, my life is in somewhat of a hectic state at the moment, and I don't have the time to comb through it all as thoroughly as I would like to. With that in mind, I just wanted to point out that, while The Grand Narrative has done, as usual, a fantastic job representing the female voice on the issue, from both a Korean and Western perspective, I still feel like Mr. Jake of Asian Male Revolutions (a cause I avidly support, for obvious reasons, if you know me at all, and a worthy one at that) could use a little more female rebuttal.
Are you ready for a completely inappropriate-for-the-internet personal anecdote, which I haven't made public up to this point? Good. Here it comes.
Last year, I had a very close male Korean friend. My friend made friends with a gyopo, who, being that he lived exactly in the middle of my place and my friend's place, started hanging out with us a lot. I really liked the guy, and enjoyed a lot of our conversations together, even though we, both being strongly opinionated people, could lock horns over an issue every now and then. It was always friendly. Until something came up that I couldn't abide.
One night while I was sitting in the restaurant with the two, my phone buzzed with a text from Smalltown. I was overly tired and stressed out from work, and it was nearing 11 pm. I hadn't wanted to go out to meet them, but they had showed up outside my apartment unannounced, and persuaded me to give up at least an hour of my time. I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning, but I felt like I couldn't possibly end up being more bitchy in person than it would be to just send them away. Turns out, I was wrong.
I sighed in exasperation, as my phone continued to buzz. The boys questioned me about who was blowing up my phone, and I filled them in. I believe the gyopo, who we'll call G, made some off-the-cuff comment about there being some kind of romantic involvement between the two of us. I informed him that Smalltown actually had a girlfriend. Just a note to clarify, in case you don't know, Smalltown is a foreigner.
"Oh. Is she Korean?"
"Yes."
"Hm."
"'Hm' what?"
"Oh nothing. Call me conservative or whatever, but I still feel uncomfortable when I see a white guy with a Korean girl."
I should have gotten up and left right then and there. But I'm me. So that didn't happen.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"Well, it just reminds me of Comfort Women."
I'll stop using quotes at this point, as this conversation took place nearly a year ago, and I'm not sure I can be quite accurate in direct quotes. Suffice it to say, it took about five minutes for the conversation to escalate. I tried my honest best to give G a chance to make his points and have his say, but it only got worse from there. He informed me that:
In summary, then: White men can only date white women. Or at least, not Korean women. White women may also not date Korean men. Korean men may only date Korean women. Female gyopos may only date male gyopos or Korean men.
Somehow, amazingly, the only category that escaped his rigid system of morality based judgments about interracial/cultural relationships was the male gyopo. AKA, himself. He was allowed to date whomever he wished. None of the rest of us are free to form love-based relationships with who we choose, or who chooses us.
Isn't that convenient?
My Korean friend sat there smiling silently throughout this entire ideal. I don't know exactly how much he understood, or agreed with, but I'm quite certain the atmosphere shift would've been impossible to miss. After another 20 minutes or so of having let the subject drop, when G conveniently switched back to Korean, and trying to get the fuck over it, I informed the gentlemen that I would be going.
That conversation pretty much ended my relationship with both of them.
What got to me the most about the entire evening, upon reflection, was actually the very first moment it started. Without having ever met someone who he knew was my friend, or his Korean girlfriend, this man had equated their relationship (which he knew absolutely nothing about) with rape. Smalltown couldn't be further from the stereotypical idea of a white man charging into Asia, with his fetish tucked under his arm, ready to capture his first submissive, naive and easily charmed little victim. I wouldn't abide his company for one single second if there was even an ounce of that present in him. He is remarkably respectful to all women, extremely well-balanced in his view of gender relations, and couldn't give a fuck in the world what race his girlfriend is, so long as she genuinely loves him for who he is. And who he is, is incredibly worthy of being loved.
While I agree with nearly all of the points in theory that Jake has made, and I see where it all is coming from, the point is, categorizing people's relationships with other people based on race is not okay. It's not okay from one end, and it's not okay from the other. And I find it disturbing that it seems this "revolution" in the Asian male's image of himself has to come at the cost of feminsim, in his view. Not only has he placed Asian women in a shockingly condescending box with his characterization of their relationships with white men, he has also shown a shocking ignorance of how the Korean media treats the image of white women. To say that it's the pot calling the kettle black is an understatement of epic proportions. And you can argue that Korean media influence is not as prevalent and wide-reaching as Western media influence until you're blue in the face, but that doesn't remove the facts of the situation, or what those facts mean for those of us who are living this life. Just as nothing can remove the reality of his experience as an Asian-American male.
You don't have to negate the one to validate the other. And if his revolution is to be a successful one, he'd do well to acknowledge the fact that Asian men are not the only ones who have ever seen the short end of the stick. In fact, you might call it a ripple in the overall scheme of things, considering what it is women, both white and Asian, have had to overcome (and are still overcoming) in both Western and Asian society and media.
Welcome to our world, Jake. Thanks for being part of the problem. So long as you promote the idea that you have the right to categorize the choices that women make in regards to the race of the person they choose to love, and why they are making those choices, you will only be enforcing what it is you are supposedly taking a stand against. This is not a male issue -- you don't get to have all the control. I suggest a little self-examination and consideration of the powerful allies women can be, given that we've been doing this for a lot longer than you have. At the moment, you're coming off as a bit of a scorned frat boy. Not attractive, regardless of ethnicity. In the meantime, and in the case that you don't see it in your best interest to adjust your views, please keep in mind that you don't get to speak for us, and our relationships, or our motivations. We are perfectly capable of speaking for ourselves.
Are you ready for a completely inappropriate-for-the-internet personal anecdote, which I haven't made public up to this point? Good. Here it comes.
Last year, I had a very close male Korean friend. My friend made friends with a gyopo, who, being that he lived exactly in the middle of my place and my friend's place, started hanging out with us a lot. I really liked the guy, and enjoyed a lot of our conversations together, even though we, both being strongly opinionated people, could lock horns over an issue every now and then. It was always friendly. Until something came up that I couldn't abide.
One night while I was sitting in the restaurant with the two, my phone buzzed with a text from Smalltown. I was overly tired and stressed out from work, and it was nearing 11 pm. I hadn't wanted to go out to meet them, but they had showed up outside my apartment unannounced, and persuaded me to give up at least an hour of my time. I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning, but I felt like I couldn't possibly end up being more bitchy in person than it would be to just send them away. Turns out, I was wrong.
I sighed in exasperation, as my phone continued to buzz. The boys questioned me about who was blowing up my phone, and I filled them in. I believe the gyopo, who we'll call G, made some off-the-cuff comment about there being some kind of romantic involvement between the two of us. I informed him that Smalltown actually had a girlfriend. Just a note to clarify, in case you don't know, Smalltown is a foreigner.
"Oh. Is she Korean?"
"Yes."
"Hm."
"'Hm' what?"
"Oh nothing. Call me conservative or whatever, but I still feel uncomfortable when I see a white guy with a Korean girl."
I should have gotten up and left right then and there. But I'm me. So that didn't happen.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"Well, it just reminds me of Comfort Women."
I'll stop using quotes at this point, as this conversation took place nearly a year ago, and I'm not sure I can be quite accurate in direct quotes. Suffice it to say, it took about five minutes for the conversation to escalate. I tried my honest best to give G a chance to make his points and have his say, but it only got worse from there. He informed me that:
- Korean women date white men for social esteem.
- Korean women being systematically raped by the Japanese is exactly like a white man and a Korean woman in a mutual adult relationship.
- Seeing white women date Korean men also made him uncomfortable because
- A Korean man dating a white woman is an indication of self-hatred but
- It was okay for him, a gyopo, to date white women, because he was Westernized, via culture but
- It was not okay for female gyopos to date white men, because they were only doing it because it was what the media told them to do, and the white men were using them based on somehow concurrent ideas of Asian women being simultaneously submissive and slutty.
In summary, then: White men can only date white women. Or at least, not Korean women. White women may also not date Korean men. Korean men may only date Korean women. Female gyopos may only date male gyopos or Korean men.
Somehow, amazingly, the only category that escaped his rigid system of morality based judgments about interracial/cultural relationships was the male gyopo. AKA, himself. He was allowed to date whomever he wished. None of the rest of us are free to form love-based relationships with who we choose, or who chooses us.
Isn't that convenient?
My Korean friend sat there smiling silently throughout this entire ideal. I don't know exactly how much he understood, or agreed with, but I'm quite certain the atmosphere shift would've been impossible to miss. After another 20 minutes or so of having let the subject drop, when G conveniently switched back to Korean, and trying to get the fuck over it, I informed the gentlemen that I would be going.
That conversation pretty much ended my relationship with both of them.
What got to me the most about the entire evening, upon reflection, was actually the very first moment it started. Without having ever met someone who he knew was my friend, or his Korean girlfriend, this man had equated their relationship (which he knew absolutely nothing about) with rape. Smalltown couldn't be further from the stereotypical idea of a white man charging into Asia, with his fetish tucked under his arm, ready to capture his first submissive, naive and easily charmed little victim. I wouldn't abide his company for one single second if there was even an ounce of that present in him. He is remarkably respectful to all women, extremely well-balanced in his view of gender relations, and couldn't give a fuck in the world what race his girlfriend is, so long as she genuinely loves him for who he is. And who he is, is incredibly worthy of being loved.
While I agree with nearly all of the points in theory that Jake has made, and I see where it all is coming from, the point is, categorizing people's relationships with other people based on race is not okay. It's not okay from one end, and it's not okay from the other. And I find it disturbing that it seems this "revolution" in the Asian male's image of himself has to come at the cost of feminsim, in his view. Not only has he placed Asian women in a shockingly condescending box with his characterization of their relationships with white men, he has also shown a shocking ignorance of how the Korean media treats the image of white women. To say that it's the pot calling the kettle black is an understatement of epic proportions. And you can argue that Korean media influence is not as prevalent and wide-reaching as Western media influence until you're blue in the face, but that doesn't remove the facts of the situation, or what those facts mean for those of us who are living this life. Just as nothing can remove the reality of his experience as an Asian-American male.
You don't have to negate the one to validate the other. And if his revolution is to be a successful one, he'd do well to acknowledge the fact that Asian men are not the only ones who have ever seen the short end of the stick. In fact, you might call it a ripple in the overall scheme of things, considering what it is women, both white and Asian, have had to overcome (and are still overcoming) in both Western and Asian society and media.
Welcome to our world, Jake. Thanks for being part of the problem. So long as you promote the idea that you have the right to categorize the choices that women make in regards to the race of the person they choose to love, and why they are making those choices, you will only be enforcing what it is you are supposedly taking a stand against. This is not a male issue -- you don't get to have all the control. I suggest a little self-examination and consideration of the powerful allies women can be, given that we've been doing this for a lot longer than you have. At the moment, you're coming off as a bit of a scorned frat boy. Not attractive, regardless of ethnicity. In the meantime, and in the case that you don't see it in your best interest to adjust your views, please keep in mind that you don't get to speak for us, and our relationships, or our motivations. We are perfectly capable of speaking for ourselves.
Joonhwae and The Tragedy.
This year, my school has 19 third graders applying to foreign or international high schools. Nine-fucking-teen. Last year, we had four. And none of them got in. Fuck knows what that's about, but it's driving Co insane, because the mothers are up here in the office squawking for hours every chance they get about how their sons are the center of the universe and why can't Co see how fantastic and brilliant and singular their little darling is, to the extent that she will also lay aside absolutely every other priority in her life and stalk people on a regualr basis demanding undue favors and special treatment?
Poor Co. I don't envy her.... well, anything. Basically. Including being in charge of me.
Anyway. One of these little gems is named Joonhwae. Joonhwae has grown up a lot over the course of the past year, I have to admit. But he's still not exactly in the upper realms of students I'm happy to see. He's fine, but I wouldn't miss him. Lucky for me, Joonhwae is the second best English speaker in the entire school, after Seokhee. Not that Joonhwae ever goes out of his way to speak to me, unless his friends are looking on.
Joonhwae (or rather, Joonhwae's mother) has spent his entire life preparing to attend foreign high school. He spent three years in Canada studying English and is one of the only students who regularly brings in essays for me to proof. English is what Joonhwae is -- going to a foreign high school is all that Joonhwae has. Unfortunately, Joonhwae is in the process of learning one of the most important lessons we can learn in our youth, namely that our parents aren't perfect -- in fact, they can be the direct source of what ends up destroying huge chunks of our lives. And I don't mean in a, "I HATE YOU DAD YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!" kind of way. I mean literally.
There are all kinds of things that are "illegal" in Korea that I don't understand. I'm the first to admit this. All sorts of things about lives are controlled in a way that the average individualistic American would find quite offensive. For example, you are not allowed to study in another country from Korea during your middle school years. Why? I don't know. What if your family needs to be abroad during that time? I don't know. I don't get it. But that's the way that things are. This is widely known.
Joonhwae's mother decided that she would go ahead and send Joonhwae abroad for the first year of middle school anyway. Her son deserved the best in English education, and she was going to get it for him, and she would just deal with the law later, I guess. She must be the kind of person who's used to considering herself an exception. I can't imagine what else would motivate such a thing.
Well. It turns out she's actually not an exception. And neither is Joonhwae. Who'd have thunk it, eh? So. Everything that I've watched Joonhwae work for, everything that he's based his identity around, is now gone. He cannot ever attend a foreign high school. Isn't that nice? Didn't Joonhwae's mom do a great job with that one? The best part is that she's now up here at the school every day terrorizing everyone from the homeroom teacher, to the head of the English department, on up to the principal. She's enraged when they look at her blankly and explain that what she did was against the law. Why aren't they doing something to fix this? This is JOONHWAE'S FUTURE!
They realize that. But, given that they are lowly civil servants, there's really nothing they can do about making an exception to a national law. Not even for Joonhwae.
Of course, what she wants is for the school to go back and change its records, forging documents to show that Joonhwae was here and in attendance for an entire year for which he was absent. And, of course, the school refuses to do any such a thing.
Now, Joonhwae just sits in class with his head down. As far as he knows, it's all over. Life might as well end. Co was telling me she's concerned he might actually do something rash, and that she doesn't even know what to say to him anymore. How can you even offer someone in that situation comfort?
Uh. Easy enough, Co. Listen. I know you're Korean and all, but believe it or not, life does not end based on which high school you (don't) get into. Not even in Korea. Is it a huge blow? Yes. Is it something Joonhwae and his mother will probably have tension between them over for the next decade at least? Yes. The end of the world? No.
And. Joonhwae. The thing is, actually, I think this could be exactly what Joonhwae needs. I told Co that Joonhwae has always been just a little too arrogant -- too proud of something that came to him by life circumstance, rather than hard work. Yes, Joonhwae has worked hard. But his fellow students can work just as hard or harder and not end up where Joonhwae is, because they haven't had the advantages he has. Joonhwae is also just a bit spoiled and entitled. He's not a bad kid, not by a long shot. But this situation could really make or break his character.
Joonhwae has a chance to pick himself up and do something for himself for once, to really suffer a setback and work his way through it. He also has a chance to not be what his mother has preordained him as. He has the chance to prove himself to himself, and have something he knows he alone can be proud of, without question.
Why all of this about a student I'm not even that fond of? Well. It just got me thinking about how funny we are about the things that happen in life, and how absolutely epically tragic every little setback seems when we first become aware of it. Think back on all those things you thought were absolutely the end of your life during your teenage years. Now, imagine how things would be different if they hadn't happened.
It's still true. We may be grownups, but it's still true. Sometimes we need to work on our character, or we need to be shoved off in a new direction in life. It's something to think about, anyway.
Poor Co. I don't envy her.... well, anything. Basically. Including being in charge of me.
Anyway. One of these little gems is named Joonhwae. Joonhwae has grown up a lot over the course of the past year, I have to admit. But he's still not exactly in the upper realms of students I'm happy to see. He's fine, but I wouldn't miss him. Lucky for me, Joonhwae is the second best English speaker in the entire school, after Seokhee. Not that Joonhwae ever goes out of his way to speak to me, unless his friends are looking on.
Joonhwae (or rather, Joonhwae's mother) has spent his entire life preparing to attend foreign high school. He spent three years in Canada studying English and is one of the only students who regularly brings in essays for me to proof. English is what Joonhwae is -- going to a foreign high school is all that Joonhwae has. Unfortunately, Joonhwae is in the process of learning one of the most important lessons we can learn in our youth, namely that our parents aren't perfect -- in fact, they can be the direct source of what ends up destroying huge chunks of our lives. And I don't mean in a, "I HATE YOU DAD YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!" kind of way. I mean literally.
There are all kinds of things that are "illegal" in Korea that I don't understand. I'm the first to admit this. All sorts of things about lives are controlled in a way that the average individualistic American would find quite offensive. For example, you are not allowed to study in another country from Korea during your middle school years. Why? I don't know. What if your family needs to be abroad during that time? I don't know. I don't get it. But that's the way that things are. This is widely known.
Joonhwae's mother decided that she would go ahead and send Joonhwae abroad for the first year of middle school anyway. Her son deserved the best in English education, and she was going to get it for him, and she would just deal with the law later, I guess. She must be the kind of person who's used to considering herself an exception. I can't imagine what else would motivate such a thing.
Well. It turns out she's actually not an exception. And neither is Joonhwae. Who'd have thunk it, eh? So. Everything that I've watched Joonhwae work for, everything that he's based his identity around, is now gone. He cannot ever attend a foreign high school. Isn't that nice? Didn't Joonhwae's mom do a great job with that one? The best part is that she's now up here at the school every day terrorizing everyone from the homeroom teacher, to the head of the English department, on up to the principal. She's enraged when they look at her blankly and explain that what she did was against the law. Why aren't they doing something to fix this? This is JOONHWAE'S FUTURE!
They realize that. But, given that they are lowly civil servants, there's really nothing they can do about making an exception to a national law. Not even for Joonhwae.
Of course, what she wants is for the school to go back and change its records, forging documents to show that Joonhwae was here and in attendance for an entire year for which he was absent. And, of course, the school refuses to do any such a thing.
Now, Joonhwae just sits in class with his head down. As far as he knows, it's all over. Life might as well end. Co was telling me she's concerned he might actually do something rash, and that she doesn't even know what to say to him anymore. How can you even offer someone in that situation comfort?
Uh. Easy enough, Co. Listen. I know you're Korean and all, but believe it or not, life does not end based on which high school you (don't) get into. Not even in Korea. Is it a huge blow? Yes. Is it something Joonhwae and his mother will probably have tension between them over for the next decade at least? Yes. The end of the world? No.
And. Joonhwae. The thing is, actually, I think this could be exactly what Joonhwae needs. I told Co that Joonhwae has always been just a little too arrogant -- too proud of something that came to him by life circumstance, rather than hard work. Yes, Joonhwae has worked hard. But his fellow students can work just as hard or harder and not end up where Joonhwae is, because they haven't had the advantages he has. Joonhwae is also just a bit spoiled and entitled. He's not a bad kid, not by a long shot. But this situation could really make or break his character.
Joonhwae has a chance to pick himself up and do something for himself for once, to really suffer a setback and work his way through it. He also has a chance to not be what his mother has preordained him as. He has the chance to prove himself to himself, and have something he knows he alone can be proud of, without question.
Why all of this about a student I'm not even that fond of? Well. It just got me thinking about how funny we are about the things that happen in life, and how absolutely epically tragic every little setback seems when we first become aware of it. Think back on all those things you thought were absolutely the end of your life during your teenage years. Now, imagine how things would be different if they hadn't happened.
It's still true. We may be grownups, but it's still true. Sometimes we need to work on our character, or we need to be shoved off in a new direction in life. It's something to think about, anyway.
9.13.2010
Gratuitous Kpop post to say....
How hot are 2NE1? Seriously, the people who condemn them as the "ugly" Kpop girl group need to get a grip. I'd throw on my nicest suit, slick back my hair and show up on anyone of those girls' doorsteps holding flowers in a heartbeat.
Have you ever looked back at some of your first posts at imnopicasso just to see how far/little/if at all/and how you've changed since first moving to Korea?
Hell no. Why? Because I find looking back on anything I've written in the past, particularly anything bloggish, to be an exercise in self-humiliation. I don't need to know how fucking stupid I was, exactly. I have a general idea of it already.
But seriously, I don't need to look back on it in writing, because I think about it nearly every day. Every time I walk into a classroom and manage to command the attention of the class without any struggle, all on my own, or teach a lesson where every student follows my every word, regardless of whether or not they actually understand any English, and successfully completes the assignments, or sit on a bus and listen in on a conversation (in Korean), or go to the bank or the store or a business dinner and manage to conduct myself in all of the above situations in a completely acceptable manner, without any noticeable struggle.
I especially notice it when I'm around other newer foreigners, and the words that come spilling out of their mouths in frustration or complete befuddlement -- they're the same exact words I had spilling out of mine a few months in. Only now, I'm able to explain it all, or point out how little what I can't explain actually matters.
I'm big on purging. I'm not one to dwell on the past, and I tend to do mass annihilation of any reminder of it, on occasion. Every blog I've ever had before I'm No Picasso (and there have been a few, which have lasted over the span of years) is locked up tight today, and even I've forgotten the passwords to access some of it. But I'm No Picasso is different because, no matter how embarrassing it may be to me personally, I feel like it's important for other foreigners in Korea to be able to see how I've grown and adjusted over my time here. To see how helpless and clueless and frustrated I started out, and to see how I made it to where I am today, which is definitely not completely clued in, but slightly more than functional. Which is really enough.
Sometimes when you're going through some of the things we go through here, it can feel like it's never going to end, and there's no possible way it will ever get better. I get criticized a lot (A LOT) for "bragging" about how well I get along in Korea, in both my job and my personal life. But I don't care -- I'm being honest about my own experience, and I think, with all of the records there are out there of people who come here and end up miserable, that those of us who are happy and successful make it known that it's actually possible. For the sake of those people who really want to make it work, but who are having a rough go of it at the moment. They need to know that if you keep an open mind and keep trying, you can get to a place where Korea can be one of the most fantastic experiences of your lifetime. Not that it's ever without its frustrations and downsides. But what the hell in this life isn't?
9.12.2010
What's The Special Chair?
Haha. Good question.
The Special Chair sits at the front of the classroom right next to my podium, facing out toward the class. When a student decides he needs to be Special for that day's class, he gets to sit in The Special Chair.
Being Special consists of mostly good-natured, but still disruptive, class clowning. It's not for students who are being downright disrespectful, but for those guys who just have a hard time relinquishing the spotlight. When I ask, "Are you going to be The Special Student today?", they mostly immediately say, "No Teacher! I not special!" and settle down for the rest of class. If they persist, I move them up to The Special Chair, where they are isolated from their band of merry brothers, within my physical reach and now the center of attention from the front of the room, which usually causes a bit of discomfort, or at least boredom, in an extreme case. They remain in The Special Chair until they can settle down and stop clowning, and then they're allowed to go back to their seat.
It's a much more effective method than just sending them to the back of the room, or out in the hall, where the lovely window function on most Korean classrooms allows them to keep up their shenanigans from outside, drawing the class's attention away from your direction. At least if they keep clowning at the front of the room, the entire class is still facing your direction and focused on you. Usually, if it's a particularly bold student, there's a bit of comical interaction for the class's benefit, before I say, "Are you finished now? Can I go back to the lesson? Okay, good. Thank you so much."
It keeps out a lot of the bad blood that can come up through discipline, when you sometimes have to control a popular (and this type almost always is popular, holding large sway over his classmates' opinions) student. You don't pit your will directly against theirs, causing a situation that can be damaging to your relationship with that student and all of his little followers. You can simply best them at their own game. Which usually ends with them being a lot more respectful in future classes together. My Special Students have usually ended up being the biggest help when it comes time for the students to participate in the lesson. And the best part is, after a student is Special once, his classmates don't soon forget it. If the same student acts up again, the others are quick to interrupt and shout, "Teacher! He is Special Student!" Which usually embarrasses them a little, enough to make them cut the shit. The students love it when someone ends up in The Special Chair, and end up policing themselves, after they've seen it happen once.
Another "Korean Men" question....
Hello! I've recently been reading your posts, and I noticed that you referred a few times that Korean men often blush, even to the point of blushing like a tomato. I was just wondering if it's really like that because, although I have not much contact wit
Alright. I’ve got one more much more complicated (and important) question waiting in my inbox, which I need to think about for a bit before I respond. Unfortunately, this one got cut off, so I’m not really sure what this person was angling at, but I think I have a good idea anyway.
I may have mentioned a few times where Korean “men” have blushed, but what I remember mentioning most often is how my students blush. They’re not men. They’re awkward teenage boys, and it has nothing to do with them being Korean. It has to do with them being young, me being a teacher, and them having to speak a language they are completely unsure in. I blush pretty often when I have to speak Korean to a new person as well. It’s embarrassing.
Even when I have mentioned Korean men blushing, it still has nothing to do with them being Korean. Stop doing that. We all stereotype — I’m guilty of it, as well. But you have to actively work against that if you hope to have any success interacting with people who are different from you. And I’m guessing that you probably do.
Listen. The world is not a Cosmo magazine. Men of any particular category don’t do anything, en masse, in such a particular way. I don’t know how many times I’ve said this, but what is different is culture — not race. Race is genetic and predetermined. Culture is varied, influenced by personality, adaptable and constantly shifting. If what you were going to say is that you’ve had different experiences with Korean men, then you’ve already answered your own question. Different men behave differently. Regardless of both race and culture
Ask me anything.
Alright. I’ve got one more much more complicated (and important) question waiting in my inbox, which I need to think about for a bit before I respond. Unfortunately, this one got cut off, so I’m not really sure what this person was angling at, but I think I have a good idea anyway.
I may have mentioned a few times where Korean “men” have blushed, but what I remember mentioning most often is how my students blush. They’re not men. They’re awkward teenage boys, and it has nothing to do with them being Korean. It has to do with them being young, me being a teacher, and them having to speak a language they are completely unsure in. I blush pretty often when I have to speak Korean to a new person as well. It’s embarrassing.
Even when I have mentioned Korean men blushing, it still has nothing to do with them being Korean. Stop doing that. We all stereotype — I’m guilty of it, as well. But you have to actively work against that if you hope to have any success interacting with people who are different from you. And I’m guessing that you probably do.
Listen. The world is not a Cosmo magazine. Men of any particular category don’t do anything, en masse, in such a particular way. I don’t know how many times I’ve said this, but what is different is culture — not race. Race is genetic and predetermined. Culture is varied, influenced by personality, adaptable and constantly shifting. If what you were going to say is that you’ve had different experiences with Korean men, then you’ve already answered your own question. Different men behave differently. Regardless of both race and culture
Ask me anything.
9.10.2010
Contract bull-gogi.
Yeah. I'm having a Korea-you-can-kiss-my-ass moment. It's actually, as usual, an MOE-you-can-kiss-my-ass moment.
Look at this shit adjustment to the contract for this year:
The Employee may reapply to another Provincial Office of Education upon completing the Term of Employment with the current Provincial Office Education by obtaining a letter of release from the current Employer which may be issued if the Employee has satisfactorily completed the current contract. However, the Employee shall not receive an Exit Allowance for the completion of the current Term of Employment nor shall the Employee receive an Entrance Allowance for the commencement of the new Term of Employment with the new Provincial Office Education. The Employee shall be paid a Settlement Allowance of 300,000 Korean Won, when he'she begins the contract with the new Provincial Office of Education.
Cunt the fuck off. So, if I 'decide' to change from one school district to another, even if I complete my contract faithfully, I still have to get a letter of "release" (release from what? if the contract is finished, I'm free to go....) from my school, and I'm out both the 2,000,000 won renewal bonus and the total 2,600,000 in entrance and exit allowances.
Basically, if I complete my contract faithfully with my school, but decide I want to change schools, I not only have to get my school's permission, but it also cancels out the 1,300,000 I'm supposed to get for finishing my contract.
The topper? I've just been informed of a mythical limit on the number of years a foreign teacher can stay at the same school. Apparently, it's three years. Which the principal mentioned in passing to Co last night. So if I stay in Korea next year, I apparently have to change schools -- I have no choice.
Boy, Korea. You really aren't a fan of foreign teachers sticking around, are you?
I'm telling you. It's one thing after another today.
Look at this shit adjustment to the contract for this year:
The Employee may reapply to another Provincial Office of Education upon completing the Term of Employment with the current Provincial Office Education by obtaining a letter of release from the current Employer which may be issued if the Employee has satisfactorily completed the current contract. However, the Employee shall not receive an Exit Allowance for the completion of the current Term of Employment nor shall the Employee receive an Entrance Allowance for the commencement of the new Term of Employment with the new Provincial Office Education. The Employee shall be paid a Settlement Allowance of 300,000 Korean Won, when he'she begins the contract with the new Provincial Office of Education.
Cunt the fuck off. So, if I 'decide' to change from one school district to another, even if I complete my contract faithfully, I still have to get a letter of "release" (release from what? if the contract is finished, I'm free to go....) from my school, and I'm out both the 2,000,000 won renewal bonus and the total 2,600,000 in entrance and exit allowances.
Basically, if I complete my contract faithfully with my school, but decide I want to change schools, I not only have to get my school's permission, but it also cancels out the 1,300,000 I'm supposed to get for finishing my contract.
The topper? I've just been informed of a mythical limit on the number of years a foreign teacher can stay at the same school. Apparently, it's three years. Which the principal mentioned in passing to Co last night. So if I stay in Korea next year, I apparently have to change schools -- I have no choice.
Boy, Korea. You really aren't a fan of foreign teachers sticking around, are you?
I'm telling you. It's one thing after another today.
Storm.
There's a big storm brewing over my school after the meeting with the new principal yesterday.
Luckily, this kind of plays right into the hands of the scheme I've been mulling over since I got back. I think it's almost time to make it public. Suddenly, it's almost all but decided.
I'll get into details later. Don't worry -- I don't break contracts. But it's definitely time to start getting something else together. The Universe gives you a feeling, then an option, then a reason... or a few. We're moving through the stages pretty quickly over here.
Here's a hint:
Not bad, eh?
To quote my first Korean love: λ΄ μΆμ λ λ§μ‘± ν λλ€/ λμ λμ λ―Έλλ 짱짱
Luckily, this kind of plays right into the hands of the scheme I've been mulling over since I got back. I think it's almost time to make it public. Suddenly, it's almost all but decided.
I'll get into details later. Don't worry -- I don't break contracts. But it's definitely time to start getting something else together. The Universe gives you a feeling, then an option, then a reason... or a few. We're moving through the stages pretty quickly over here.
Here's a hint:
Not bad, eh?To quote my first Korean love: λ΄ μΆμ λ λ§μ‘± ν λλ€/ λμ λμ λ―Έλλ 짱짱
9.09.2010
Awakening.
The second graders are in the throes of that lovely phase that always seems to hit the boys around this time, when their hormones and physical reality start to mingle with the confusion of fantasy and they feel the need to have some kind of outward expression toward the world, as a release.
Like taking their pants off in class. Or informing the teacher (me) of who watches exactly how much porn, and how often (occasionally, what kind). Or answering every question with the name of a girl one student was seen speaking to one time after school three days ago.
It's lovely. And more of them seem to be wearing boxers, rather than briefs, this year -- just in case you were wondering.
Like taking their pants off in class. Or informing the teacher (me) of who watches exactly how much porn, and how often (occasionally, what kind). Or answering every question with the name of a girl one student was seen speaking to one time after school three days ago.
It's lovely. And more of them seem to be wearing boxers, rather than briefs, this year -- just in case you were wondering.
9.08.2010
Eye contact in Korea, via The Korean.
The Korean just made an interesting post about eye contact in Korean social settings. I thought it was interesting, not only because I was dealing with this earlier today, as I sat around the table at the coffee shop, straining to show interest in what the other teachers who are less familiar with me were saying (two of whom were head teachers), and also concentrating on their Korean, without it resulting in something that I already know would be considered quite disrespectful, but also because it's something that I've found to be changing, with my students.
My co-teachers, having mostly all spent some significant time abroad and around foreigners, are already aware of what eye contact means in Western culture, and I don't have to mind it so much around them. They're used to me, anyway, and when you get to know people, cultural differences such as this cease to be so important, because we start to judge people's actions by who we know them to be, rather than by their secondary social cues. But when I'm around the other teachers, especially the ones who don't speak English, it's a constant struggle.
I'm American -- when I'm concentrating hard on what someone is saying, I look them directly in the eyes. And when someone is speaking Korean, you better believe I'm having to concentrate. But I've had to learn to direct my eyes completely away in these cases, so that I'm staring at the table or my coffee cup. It's not even that the other teachers would think I was being disrespectful -- they know me better than that -- but it's quite literally distracting and uncomfortable to them.
On the other hand, eye contact is something that I do demand of my students, regardless of their own social training and cultural norms. I've discussed this at length with my closer co-teachers, because it was something I was quite concerned about in the beginning. The first I noticed it was the first few times I had to scold students. As anyone who has ever done the same in Korea knows, as soon as your voice turns stern, their eyes automatically shoot down. I come from a "look at me when I'm talking to you" culture. I realized right away, without being told, that this was a sign of respect here, not the opposite. But I struggled, at first, with being able to feel listened to when I was scolding the students, because I wasn't also being looked at.
Surprisingly, when I mentioned this to Old Co, she told me that, actually, she asks the students to look at her in the eyes when she's scolding them. She said that the looking down is old style, and she also feels as though she connects better with the students when there is established eye contact. I heard her tell the students the same thing many times, when her desk used to be next to mine in the office, and I was being paid a visit by naughty students after school. "She's American," she would tell them. "You must look at her eyes when she speaks to you." Knowing that I was extremely hesitant to ask this of them myself.
Now. In class, I'm famous for asking the students to "give me [their] eyes". When they get too rowdy and worked up and lose concentration, I won't move on with the lesson until I'm able to scan the classroom and make direct eye contact with every single one of them. I do the same thing when I'm about to explain the directions to a game or some other concept that I know is going to be difficult for them to understand. In that situation, I still feel like it's crucial to know that I have their full attention. When I'm scolding them, and they look down, it means something entirely different. When I ask for their eyes in class time, it means they are not looking at their book or their friend or their shoes or out the window, or at a million other super, super distracting things that can shoot their concentration all to hell and make them completely miss my directions.
The students have had absolutely no problems with this. They do get the concept of eye contact = attention. And when it's not one on one, they're not threatened by it. And it works wonders. I no longer have to explain something in front of the entire class, and then follow it by walking around and explaining it again to each table individually. They need to watch me in class to understand what the fuck is going on. My gestures and facial expressions are key to their comprehension. And although they do mostly all start out looking down when I speak to them one on one, they come around with time to looking me in the eye quite naturally when we talk outside of class. And now, after I'm finished with the scolding part of any punishment, and they've been sufficiently shamed, or whatever, I have them sit down and explain themselves to me, while looking me in the eye. Their demeanor changes and they relax. It's not a challenge to my authority, but a signal to them that now we are having a conversation and it's their turn to make me understand something, to say whatever it is they may have to say.
It's not a completely foreign concept. But it has been one that has been interesting to learn how to navigate. There's always a fine line in any given culture between adapting yourself and having those around you adapt to relating to you. Eye contact has definitely been one of the most tangible examples of that since I arrived.
That having been said, I never do more than a quick sideswipe upward toward the principal. There are some lines you just don't cross.
My co-teachers, having mostly all spent some significant time abroad and around foreigners, are already aware of what eye contact means in Western culture, and I don't have to mind it so much around them. They're used to me, anyway, and when you get to know people, cultural differences such as this cease to be so important, because we start to judge people's actions by who we know them to be, rather than by their secondary social cues. But when I'm around the other teachers, especially the ones who don't speak English, it's a constant struggle.
I'm American -- when I'm concentrating hard on what someone is saying, I look them directly in the eyes. And when someone is speaking Korean, you better believe I'm having to concentrate. But I've had to learn to direct my eyes completely away in these cases, so that I'm staring at the table or my coffee cup. It's not even that the other teachers would think I was being disrespectful -- they know me better than that -- but it's quite literally distracting and uncomfortable to them.
On the other hand, eye contact is something that I do demand of my students, regardless of their own social training and cultural norms. I've discussed this at length with my closer co-teachers, because it was something I was quite concerned about in the beginning. The first I noticed it was the first few times I had to scold students. As anyone who has ever done the same in Korea knows, as soon as your voice turns stern, their eyes automatically shoot down. I come from a "look at me when I'm talking to you" culture. I realized right away, without being told, that this was a sign of respect here, not the opposite. But I struggled, at first, with being able to feel listened to when I was scolding the students, because I wasn't also being looked at.
Surprisingly, when I mentioned this to Old Co, she told me that, actually, she asks the students to look at her in the eyes when she's scolding them. She said that the looking down is old style, and she also feels as though she connects better with the students when there is established eye contact. I heard her tell the students the same thing many times, when her desk used to be next to mine in the office, and I was being paid a visit by naughty students after school. "She's American," she would tell them. "You must look at her eyes when she speaks to you." Knowing that I was extremely hesitant to ask this of them myself.
Now. In class, I'm famous for asking the students to "give me [their] eyes". When they get too rowdy and worked up and lose concentration, I won't move on with the lesson until I'm able to scan the classroom and make direct eye contact with every single one of them. I do the same thing when I'm about to explain the directions to a game or some other concept that I know is going to be difficult for them to understand. In that situation, I still feel like it's crucial to know that I have their full attention. When I'm scolding them, and they look down, it means something entirely different. When I ask for their eyes in class time, it means they are not looking at their book or their friend or their shoes or out the window, or at a million other super, super distracting things that can shoot their concentration all to hell and make them completely miss my directions.
The students have had absolutely no problems with this. They do get the concept of eye contact = attention. And when it's not one on one, they're not threatened by it. And it works wonders. I no longer have to explain something in front of the entire class, and then follow it by walking around and explaining it again to each table individually. They need to watch me in class to understand what the fuck is going on. My gestures and facial expressions are key to their comprehension. And although they do mostly all start out looking down when I speak to them one on one, they come around with time to looking me in the eye quite naturally when we talk outside of class. And now, after I'm finished with the scolding part of any punishment, and they've been sufficiently shamed, or whatever, I have them sit down and explain themselves to me, while looking me in the eye. Their demeanor changes and they relax. It's not a challenge to my authority, but a signal to them that now we are having a conversation and it's their turn to make me understand something, to say whatever it is they may have to say.
It's not a completely foreign concept. But it has been one that has been interesting to learn how to navigate. There's always a fine line in any given culture between adapting yourself and having those around you adapt to relating to you. Eye contact has definitely been one of the most tangible examples of that since I arrived.
That having been said, I never do more than a quick sideswipe upward toward the principal. There are some lines you just don't cross.
Club day, jeong and on being magnae.
Ah, the coworkers. I'd add in loads of hearts if I was the kind of person who had the time or energy to type loads of hearts. Today was the first club activities day, which means we are free to go at three, to our own "teacher club activities". My chosen "club" is the "drinking coffee and gossiping about students and other faculty members (particularly higher-ups) who are not present" club.
Fuh-reaking out about the new principal. It's hilarious. And one of the aspects of Korean culture I find the most endearing. The fluttering. The fluttering that surrounds any new or different event that challenges the norm, even slightly.
It's not without reason, as I've already outlined. And today I was informed that the principal apparently sent out a puzzling message on the messenger service earlier this week. What about? About how he had imagined that the students should come into school early in the mornings and sit quietly in their classrooms reading to themselves until the morning sessions begin.
If you had ever been witness to what actually goes on in the period of time in the mornings between when the students arrive and when classes start, you would know how fucking hilarious this notion of his is. That is simply never going to happen. Ever. Even if God himself comes down from Heaven and spends thirty minutes explaining to each student individually why it should.
Afterward, I was insisting I had to go and get some errands done before my other "meeting" tomorrow night, which will see me getting in quite late, because I don't want them left until the Friday. But my co-teachers simply looked at me and said, "But you must eat....?"
Sigh. Yes, yes but quickly and then I have to go. Of course, we end up sitting and talking for another hour and a half. It's been way too long, and we're all far too busy at work these days to catch up. I told them it was really nice to be able to share some of the struggles currently going on with my family, because a lot of my foreign friends don't really understand. Why? Because my family lives Korean style -- three generations to a household, and all feeling responsible for each other's well-being. To them, the problem was natural. To my foreign friends, my family is a little odd and perhaps too entwined. Old Co fell back on my explanation to the students about the difference between "have to" and "should".
They also got a bit enraged when they asked how the temporary teacher who was having such a hard time adjusting last semester is doing. They know that I'm basically the only teacher who talks to her, and they were genuinely concerned. I told them she's doing much better, and getting along really well with the students, comparatively speaking, but that she feels a little left out from the other teachers. They were careful in how they responded to this until I went ahead and disclosed my own kind of struggle with her, which is that every single time she points out how she's left out, it's always in comparison to how I'm not. As in, I am a foreigner and she is a Korean, so why am I more included than she is? She doesn't mean it quite that way, but that is basically what she's saying.
My co-teachers flew into a rage. It has nothing to do with being Korean or foreign -- it's a character issue. She is closed off to the other teachers, and rejected their attempts to be close to her in the beginning, and is always blaming them for things or trying to make them responsible for her issues. Whereas I've been open and willing to socialize and be a part of the group from the beginning.
Korea doesn't take rejection of the group well. It didn't take me long to crack on to that. And, although it's contrary to my nature, I have often sacrificed my "wants" to put in the effort to become a part of the group.
A lot of foreigners hear Koreans say, "Foreigners don't have jeong -- Koreans have jeong," and kind of take it out of context a bit, I think. Of course, you can't characterize every statement of this kind as completely innocent. But Koreans are kind of bad at explaining exactly what jeong is. What foreigners hear when Koreans explain jeong, is that jeong is a kind of love and taking care of other people around you. And it is. But this kind of group building is also jeong. And foreigners do have a hard time understanding it. Why do I have to go to seventeen thousand hwaeshik a year where I can't even understand what the fuck is going on most of the time? That's a natural reaction for us. It's individualistic. But what we may not realize is, none of the Koreans want to fucking be there either. They've got to pick up their kids and do homework and housework and take care of their husbands or wives or whatever. They complain endlessly about it, in fact. But they go. Because it builds jeong.
Apparently, I have jeong. What my coworkers don't realize is that, actually, I don't have jeong. But I've learned how to act like I have jeong to be happier and healthier here in Korea. And maybe, in the process, I've actually developed some. I don't know. The whole jeong thing is still a bit fuzzy.
The point is, I had a great time tonight. And it's almost worth it that now I have to spend my Friday evening doing all the shit I didn't get done today. I love my coworkers. And I love that they seem to understand and support parts of my life that no one else around can or does. Like issues with my family, or the things that I'm considering now about my future. They're older, and they have loads of good advice and varied life experience to throw my way, without being judgmental or bossy. Being magnae among them is really nice.
Hearts and rainbows and shit. Right. I'm out.
Fuh-reaking out about the new principal. It's hilarious. And one of the aspects of Korean culture I find the most endearing. The fluttering. The fluttering that surrounds any new or different event that challenges the norm, even slightly.
It's not without reason, as I've already outlined. And today I was informed that the principal apparently sent out a puzzling message on the messenger service earlier this week. What about? About how he had imagined that the students should come into school early in the mornings and sit quietly in their classrooms reading to themselves until the morning sessions begin.
If you had ever been witness to what actually goes on in the period of time in the mornings between when the students arrive and when classes start, you would know how fucking hilarious this notion of his is. That is simply never going to happen. Ever. Even if God himself comes down from Heaven and spends thirty minutes explaining to each student individually why it should.
Afterward, I was insisting I had to go and get some errands done before my other "meeting" tomorrow night, which will see me getting in quite late, because I don't want them left until the Friday. But my co-teachers simply looked at me and said, "But you must eat....?"
Sigh. Yes, yes but quickly and then I have to go. Of course, we end up sitting and talking for another hour and a half. It's been way too long, and we're all far too busy at work these days to catch up. I told them it was really nice to be able to share some of the struggles currently going on with my family, because a lot of my foreign friends don't really understand. Why? Because my family lives Korean style -- three generations to a household, and all feeling responsible for each other's well-being. To them, the problem was natural. To my foreign friends, my family is a little odd and perhaps too entwined. Old Co fell back on my explanation to the students about the difference between "have to" and "should".
They also got a bit enraged when they asked how the temporary teacher who was having such a hard time adjusting last semester is doing. They know that I'm basically the only teacher who talks to her, and they were genuinely concerned. I told them she's doing much better, and getting along really well with the students, comparatively speaking, but that she feels a little left out from the other teachers. They were careful in how they responded to this until I went ahead and disclosed my own kind of struggle with her, which is that every single time she points out how she's left out, it's always in comparison to how I'm not. As in, I am a foreigner and she is a Korean, so why am I more included than she is? She doesn't mean it quite that way, but that is basically what she's saying.
My co-teachers flew into a rage. It has nothing to do with being Korean or foreign -- it's a character issue. She is closed off to the other teachers, and rejected their attempts to be close to her in the beginning, and is always blaming them for things or trying to make them responsible for her issues. Whereas I've been open and willing to socialize and be a part of the group from the beginning.
Korea doesn't take rejection of the group well. It didn't take me long to crack on to that. And, although it's contrary to my nature, I have often sacrificed my "wants" to put in the effort to become a part of the group.
A lot of foreigners hear Koreans say, "Foreigners don't have jeong -- Koreans have jeong," and kind of take it out of context a bit, I think. Of course, you can't characterize every statement of this kind as completely innocent. But Koreans are kind of bad at explaining exactly what jeong is. What foreigners hear when Koreans explain jeong, is that jeong is a kind of love and taking care of other people around you. And it is. But this kind of group building is also jeong. And foreigners do have a hard time understanding it. Why do I have to go to seventeen thousand hwaeshik a year where I can't even understand what the fuck is going on most of the time? That's a natural reaction for us. It's individualistic. But what we may not realize is, none of the Koreans want to fucking be there either. They've got to pick up their kids and do homework and housework and take care of their husbands or wives or whatever. They complain endlessly about it, in fact. But they go. Because it builds jeong.
Apparently, I have jeong. What my coworkers don't realize is that, actually, I don't have jeong. But I've learned how to act like I have jeong to be happier and healthier here in Korea. And maybe, in the process, I've actually developed some. I don't know. The whole jeong thing is still a bit fuzzy.
The point is, I had a great time tonight. And it's almost worth it that now I have to spend my Friday evening doing all the shit I didn't get done today. I love my coworkers. And I love that they seem to understand and support parts of my life that no one else around can or does. Like issues with my family, or the things that I'm considering now about my future. They're older, and they have loads of good advice and varied life experience to throw my way, without being judgmental or bossy. Being magnae among them is really nice.
Hearts and rainbows and shit. Right. I'm out.
9.07.2010
Shanghai S.O.S.
So. Nice.
Word on the street is, you can't get a visa to get into China from South Korea, unless you can present an ARC that is valid for at least six months. My visa is up in October, and can't be renewed until the official documentation of my re-hiring comes down from the MOE next month. Chuseok is in two weeks. And I had just finally made up my mind, after re-checking flight prices and finding they've gone down significantly in the last week.
Any suggestions? Or am I doomed to roam this little peninsula for every vacation from now until forever?
Sigh.
Word on the street is, you can't get a visa to get into China from South Korea, unless you can present an ARC that is valid for at least six months. My visa is up in October, and can't be renewed until the official documentation of my re-hiring comes down from the MOE next month. Chuseok is in two weeks. And I had just finally made up my mind, after re-checking flight prices and finding they've gone down significantly in the last week.
Any suggestions? Or am I doomed to roam this little peninsula for every vacation from now until forever?
Sigh.
Networking.
I've got a lot of meeting-and-greeting to do over the course of the next couple of weeks. Hanging out with your coworkers so much (and having the same ones for so long) inevitably leads to you meeting their friends, a large percentage of whom are other public school teachers. Result? You become known as kind of the executive foreign teacher in the area. IE, new weoneomin comes in, looks a bit befuddled and overwhelmed. The Korean teacher network swings into action: Can we give him your phone number? Would you mind spending some time? Maybe you could make him feel more at home...
A whole boatload of this just went down, because the new semester (with all of its new arrivals) just started. And of course, I don't mind. What I do mind is that all of the new teachers in question are supposed to be both male and younger than me. A. We need more females around these here parts and B. Younger than me? Younger than me? No. I was the youngest around when I got here. No one is allowed to be younger than me. What is happening?
Anyway, if your Korean co-teacher tries to palm off some random foreign girl's phone number on you in the next week or so, you probably seem a bit lost and it's probably mine. Call me if you wanna grab coffee. I'm nice -- I promise.
A whole boatload of this just went down, because the new semester (with all of its new arrivals) just started. And of course, I don't mind. What I do mind is that all of the new teachers in question are supposed to be both male and younger than me. A. We need more females around these here parts and B. Younger than me? Younger than me? No. I was the youngest around when I got here. No one is allowed to be younger than me. What is happening?
Anyway, if your Korean co-teacher tries to palm off some random foreign girl's phone number on you in the next week or so, you probably seem a bit lost and it's probably mine. Call me if you wanna grab coffee. I'm nice -- I promise.
9.06.2010
The big dinner.
Today was hwaeshik to welcome the new principal. I won't go into it, really, because it's largely boring, but I will say that there was an uncomfortable moment when he came over to talk for a bit with me and Co. Co informed him that I had been at the school for two years and was about to begin my third. And there was this huge uncomfortable pause, while he seemed to try to process something.
Co shifted in her seat and shot me a look, and then immediately revamped her plan. She went on quickly to explain that I can understand Korean, even if I can't speak well, that I had taken classes at university for a time, that the students love my class, I love Korean food and that I had canceled a very important appointment doing volunteer work in order to attend the dinner.
That seemed to satisfy him. What happened inside of those three seconds in between, I think we both realized, was that he was wondering why on earth the school would keep on the same old foreigner for so long. That's the pessimistic assumption -- the optimistic one is just that he was wondering what a foreigner is doing in Korea for three years straight. Either way, we both sensed a hole forming, and Co did good work quickly filling it in. He went on to test my Korean with a series of basic questions about my hobbies, what I had studied in school, and if I was familiar with the other foreign teachers in the area, or other foreigners in general. I only had to ask for help with translation twice, so I figure I did well enough.
Other highlights include a willowy young teacher telling Co she was jealous of my figure, specifically my ass, and me informing her all she had to do to get one like mine was put on thirty pounds, and the adorable young male teacher trotting around in Converse looking as though all the world were a wonder. I still want to put him in my pocket. But I won't.
Cha. There's an update for you. Now, back to life.
Co shifted in her seat and shot me a look, and then immediately revamped her plan. She went on quickly to explain that I can understand Korean, even if I can't speak well, that I had taken classes at university for a time, that the students love my class, I love Korean food and that I had canceled a very important appointment doing volunteer work in order to attend the dinner.
That seemed to satisfy him. What happened inside of those three seconds in between, I think we both realized, was that he was wondering why on earth the school would keep on the same old foreigner for so long. That's the pessimistic assumption -- the optimistic one is just that he was wondering what a foreigner is doing in Korea for three years straight. Either way, we both sensed a hole forming, and Co did good work quickly filling it in. He went on to test my Korean with a series of basic questions about my hobbies, what I had studied in school, and if I was familiar with the other foreign teachers in the area, or other foreigners in general. I only had to ask for help with translation twice, so I figure I did well enough.
Other highlights include a willowy young teacher telling Co she was jealous of my figure, specifically my ass, and me informing her all she had to do to get one like mine was put on thirty pounds, and the adorable young male teacher trotting around in Converse looking as though all the world were a wonder. I still want to put him in my pocket. But I won't.
Cha. There's an update for you. Now, back to life.
9.03.2010
9.02.2010
Hardcore Sem.
I put my hand through a pane of glass at school today.
I wasn't angry, but I was playing angry. It was immensely difficult to keep up the facade after that happened. You see, my formerly angelic second graders have been taken over by the old teacher who turned last year's second graders into total nightmares as well. When I come into class now, they stand on their desks and shout the Korean equivalent of, "Hooray! No grandmother teacher today!" Punks. While I'm glad that they're initially happy to see me, they have a difficult time adjusting their behavior appropriately during our class time. I'm not the grandmother teacher -- I don't tolerate nonstop talking every time my back is to the room, or incessant class-wide jokes in Korean which derail the lesson. Jokes in English? Sure. We can do that. In Korean, not on.
There was a particularly nasty little nest of them today, and after asking them twice to stop talking, I moved one away. The nest persisted, so I moved another up to the front in The Special Chair. Three of them -- the first two I had moved, and one who was left at the back, then proceeded to form a triangle of nonsense. I called the class to attention, and told the three that they were to see me in my office after school. That's not something I have to do often, and is in fact something I've never had to do in front of the second graders before. Their faces turned to shock and then mild terror. Teacher please one more time. Teacher please! One more time!
No. You had 'one more time' when I moved you. I asked you twice to be quiet before that. One more time already happened twice. No more times.
Well. I offended their fragile little pubescent egos, so they proceeded to cop attitude. I sent one out into the hallway the next time he spoke while I was speaking. The rest of the class was mostly alright, but would still take to murmuring amongst themselves every single time I turned to write something on the board. After two or three rounds of: What do you think you are doing right now? This is class time. This is not free time. Be quiet. I turned around from the board and went to slam my hand down on the podium to get their attention. Unfortunately, my hand went straight through the glass.
It took about split second for me to get it together and not flinch. They all jerked around and instantly lowered their eyes in dead silence.
Alright. Well. Shit. I guess I'll just go with this, then.
Stern faced, I explained that we got about 45 minutes together every month and a half. Our time is very short, so we have to use it well. But we can't use our time together when I have to spend so much telling them to be quiet. They were such good students last year, and now they have changed. I don't know why that happened, but I don't like it. I want to be happy when I see them, not disappointed. Why are they making me disappointed? Now. Can we finish our assignments, please? Yes. Are you finished talking and making me disappointed? Yes. Okay.
Turned back to the board and posed the final question. They dutifully called out an answer with perfect concentration -- a funny answer, at that. I smiled, and laughed, and put the answer up on the board, as a thin trail of blood started to make its way down my wrist.
The cool thing about the whole situation? I really genuinely wasn't angry. Or frustrated. Why? I felt like I was actually in control. They were being horrible, no doubt about that. But they were keeping to the right side of the line. At no point were they in danger of actually being able to perform a coup. That's cool. I remember feeling so out of control in these situations, before. And nearly on the verge of tears, it was so bad. But not today. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't make idle threats. I did put my hand through a pane of glass, but that was completely accidental.
When the three boys showed up to the office, I told them to sit down and talk to me. I'm not good at lecturing, but I've found one of the most effective things you can do in these situations is make them try to explain themselves. Why did you do that today?
No answer.
No, really. You must have a reason for the things that you do. So tell me your reason. Why were you talking?
The question was too difficult (we were working on, "Who do you admire?/Who is your hero?") -- we don't know who our heroes are, so we just talked instead.
Well. That's an interesting answer but
1. Am I a mean bad teacher? No? Don't I always answer your questions and help you when you need help? Yes. So, if something is too difficult, why didn't you say, "Teacher! Please help me!"
and
2. That was during the time you were to be doing your assignments. You are allowed to talk to your friends during that time. Why were you talking while I was talking?
No answer.
I want to know. You must have a reason for everything you do. Just tell me the reason. I want to understand.
I don't know, Teacher.
Well. If you don't know, then it must not be a very good reason, right?
No.
So now you are in the office after school for no good reason. Right?
Yes.
Is that smart?
No.
Are you smart boys?
....
You are. You are smart boys. So don't do stupid things.
Timid laughter and apologies.
Listen -- you guys are good students. I know that. And I know you like to talk. That's okay. You can talk in my class. Every other class is listen, listen, listen. But our time together is special, because you have the chance to speak English. I want you to talk. But you have to talk to me. Next time, help me. Give me the answers and be class leaders. Don't waste time doing stupid things instead. Yeah?
Yes, Teacher.
Sorted. And I believe they will, because they are good boys. They just lost the fucking plot today, because there was a typhoon and everyone was forced to stay in school 40 minutes later than usual.
My hand's alright, by the way. But I reckon I'll have a well hard rep by the time I get back to school in the morning.
I wasn't angry, but I was playing angry. It was immensely difficult to keep up the facade after that happened. You see, my formerly angelic second graders have been taken over by the old teacher who turned last year's second graders into total nightmares as well. When I come into class now, they stand on their desks and shout the Korean equivalent of, "Hooray! No grandmother teacher today!" Punks. While I'm glad that they're initially happy to see me, they have a difficult time adjusting their behavior appropriately during our class time. I'm not the grandmother teacher -- I don't tolerate nonstop talking every time my back is to the room, or incessant class-wide jokes in Korean which derail the lesson. Jokes in English? Sure. We can do that. In Korean, not on.
There was a particularly nasty little nest of them today, and after asking them twice to stop talking, I moved one away. The nest persisted, so I moved another up to the front in The Special Chair. Three of them -- the first two I had moved, and one who was left at the back, then proceeded to form a triangle of nonsense. I called the class to attention, and told the three that they were to see me in my office after school. That's not something I have to do often, and is in fact something I've never had to do in front of the second graders before. Their faces turned to shock and then mild terror. Teacher please one more time. Teacher please! One more time!
No. You had 'one more time' when I moved you. I asked you twice to be quiet before that. One more time already happened twice. No more times.
Well. I offended their fragile little pubescent egos, so they proceeded to cop attitude. I sent one out into the hallway the next time he spoke while I was speaking. The rest of the class was mostly alright, but would still take to murmuring amongst themselves every single time I turned to write something on the board. After two or three rounds of: What do you think you are doing right now? This is class time. This is not free time. Be quiet. I turned around from the board and went to slam my hand down on the podium to get their attention. Unfortunately, my hand went straight through the glass.
It took about split second for me to get it together and not flinch. They all jerked around and instantly lowered their eyes in dead silence.
Alright. Well. Shit. I guess I'll just go with this, then.
Stern faced, I explained that we got about 45 minutes together every month and a half. Our time is very short, so we have to use it well. But we can't use our time together when I have to spend so much telling them to be quiet. They were such good students last year, and now they have changed. I don't know why that happened, but I don't like it. I want to be happy when I see them, not disappointed. Why are they making me disappointed? Now. Can we finish our assignments, please? Yes. Are you finished talking and making me disappointed? Yes. Okay.
Turned back to the board and posed the final question. They dutifully called out an answer with perfect concentration -- a funny answer, at that. I smiled, and laughed, and put the answer up on the board, as a thin trail of blood started to make its way down my wrist.
The cool thing about the whole situation? I really genuinely wasn't angry. Or frustrated. Why? I felt like I was actually in control. They were being horrible, no doubt about that. But they were keeping to the right side of the line. At no point were they in danger of actually being able to perform a coup. That's cool. I remember feeling so out of control in these situations, before. And nearly on the verge of tears, it was so bad. But not today. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't make idle threats. I did put my hand through a pane of glass, but that was completely accidental.
When the three boys showed up to the office, I told them to sit down and talk to me. I'm not good at lecturing, but I've found one of the most effective things you can do in these situations is make them try to explain themselves. Why did you do that today?
No answer.
No, really. You must have a reason for the things that you do. So tell me your reason. Why were you talking?
The question was too difficult (we were working on, "Who do you admire?/Who is your hero?") -- we don't know who our heroes are, so we just talked instead.
Well. That's an interesting answer but
1. Am I a mean bad teacher? No? Don't I always answer your questions and help you when you need help? Yes. So, if something is too difficult, why didn't you say, "Teacher! Please help me!"
and
2. That was during the time you were to be doing your assignments. You are allowed to talk to your friends during that time. Why were you talking while I was talking?
No answer.
I want to know. You must have a reason for everything you do. Just tell me the reason. I want to understand.
I don't know, Teacher.
Well. If you don't know, then it must not be a very good reason, right?
No.
So now you are in the office after school for no good reason. Right?
Yes.
Is that smart?
No.
Are you smart boys?
....
You are. You are smart boys. So don't do stupid things.
Timid laughter and apologies.
Listen -- you guys are good students. I know that. And I know you like to talk. That's okay. You can talk in my class. Every other class is listen, listen, listen. But our time together is special, because you have the chance to speak English. I want you to talk. But you have to talk to me. Next time, help me. Give me the answers and be class leaders. Don't waste time doing stupid things instead. Yeah?
Yes, Teacher.
Sorted. And I believe they will, because they are good boys. They just lost the fucking plot today, because there was a typhoon and everyone was forced to stay in school 40 minutes later than usual.
My hand's alright, by the way. But I reckon I'll have a well hard rep by the time I get back to school in the morning.
What's the best city in Korea? I should be heading over there in a year or so (for school) but my only otions seem to be Busan and Seoul. I'm a small-town kid (from the south so I'm curious about what life will be like?
This one is a little difficult for me to answer for two reasons: 1. I really haven't traveled tons around Korea and 2. I lived in New York City for over five years before I moved to Korea. So I had already done my 'big city' adjusting before I arrived.
You are never limited to just Busan and Seoul for your stay in the ROK. In fact, those are probably the two most difficult places to get (at least public school) jobs, because no one really wants to live in the boonies in a foreign country. So if small town South Korea is what you want, you should have no problem getting it. I'm not really qualified to comment on what that experience is like, however, given that I live in Incheon, which is quite a large and populous city.
I have to say that the time I did spend in smaller towns to the south was lovely. I don't know if I'd go full-on country (although I did seriously wish to, for a time), because you definitely get the impression you are literally the first foreigner everyone in the whole town has ever seen. People were unbelieveably kind, given that I was already in Korean company, and didn't hesitate to approach and make all kinds of conversation (all in Korean), hand over all kinds of food and drinks, or anything else they had at hand. I don't know that I could do it full time, however. At some point, you do want to just be left alone. Of course, after some time, your neighborhood would get used to you. But this kind of thing wouldn't ever entirely trail off.
If you go to the other extreme and end up in Seoul, you'd better prepare yourself not just for a city experience, but probably The City Experience. Even compared to Manhattan, Seoul does city big. Towering buildings, no horizon line, neon absolutely everywhere, broiling sidewalks crammed full of people and vendors -- it's not a joke. And it can be quite overwhelming, depending on how much you care for/are used to that kind of thing. But. As a trade off, you don't get more than passing glances from busy urbanites who probably just passed another foreigner about fifteen minutes ago, and the shop clerks will likely all take your orders and give your totals in English, automatically. Or at least try to.
What you might try to do, for the first year, is aim somewhere in between. I personally have a soft spot for Gwangju and Jeollanam do. It has all the amenities of the city, but the people seemed so much friendlier and more relaxed, compared to the infamously harder and grittier inhabitants of Incheon (where I live). It has almost a Philly/Portland kind of vibe about it -- a decent city which holds its own, but isn't exactly at the very top of the pile. When you think about Seoul and Busan, think more New York/L.A.
So. It's up to you, really, to decide what aspects are most important and/or least tolerable for your personal character. Good luck.
9.01.2010
What's the hardest part so dar about larning Korean language? I am learning as well but I find that listening/spoken lang is a hell of a lot different from what I've been taught in class.
Well. I don't really have the struggles that learners might have with the spoken part of learning the language. Obviously, being in an environment where I'm surrounded by native Korean speaking literally all day everyday, listening is actually my strongest skill, and speaking -- as far as pronunciation goes -- is not far behind. Speaking, as in sentence structure, is a completely different story. As is spelling, because I hardly see anything in writing at all, compared to how often I hear words.
The hardest part for me (besides the fact that I'm lazy) has definitely been the fact that I can hear and learn a verb, but then I have to turn around and conjugate it several different ways, depending on who I'm speaking to. It's not that the different levels of speech are so hard to learn -- it's actually quite simple. But as an insecure second language speaker, it can be difficult to get the correct one out when you're put on the spot. If there's a verb I'm more used to using with students (speaking informally), when I go to use it with an adult, sometimes it will come out automatically in the informal form. Because my brain is scanning, trying quickly to grab ahold of the vocabulary I need, and it when it hits on the word that is the right meaning, sometimes it doesn't stop to consider, is it also the correct form in level of politeness? So, when you learn a new verb in Korean, it's not one-size-fits-all -- not only do you have to mentally edit for tense, but also for level, which means, inevitably (when I'm speaking, at least), one or the other is going to come out wrong.
Luckily, most Koreans take it in stride if you suddenly bust out with an informal expression, especially if you're obviously making an effort to use polite language. My understanding, actually, is that Koreans tend to consider the levels of speech far more difficult for foreigners to grasp than they actually are. If everything else you say is in polite form, don't sweat it too much when you come out with something casual. Most people will understand that you don't mean it.
On the other hand, I've been sort of mercilessly teased about using the polite level around close friends. When I first started learning Korean, it was in a classroom environment, where everything is taught in the polite form. When it came time to hang out at the bar on Saturday night, I was the odd one out speaking too formally for the setting, with everyone ribbing me about how awkward it was. But I had no idea how to shift down at that point, and speak more casually. Now, after stopping my Korean class and picking things up more from the students than from anywhere else, as well as pop songs, dramas and movies, I'm getting much better at being able to speak casually. Maybe too much so.
That aside, as you are a classroom learner of the language, I would definitely recommend watching Korean dramas and movies to help you along. Pop songs, as well, because they are full of repetition. Of course, just passively consuming Korean language media won't do you much good. As you watch a drama, pause and listen to certain repeating expressions, phrases or words, until you can get the spelling and pronunciation down yourself. It's a great way to learn how certain words and phrases are actually used in context, which is sometimes quite different from textbook explanations. Before you start listening to a pop song on repeat, go through the lyrics in Korean and translate them into English so that you know what individual words and phrases actually mean, and they are lodged in your brain with both sound and meaning.
I feel kind of like a schmuck answering this one, to be honest, as my Korean studying has completely fallen off of late. Right now, considering things about the future, I'm not sure it's going to be a top priority for a while. But I still have benefited immensely from what I have managed to pick up here, and everyday life and interaction is much simpler and much more pleasant. So. Good luck in your studies, everyone.
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