My First Week Teaching in the Hamlet

I’ve reached the end of my first teaching week. I’ve met all my high school students, or at least, they’ve all met me. I’ve met all the English faculty (some where gone for various reasons). I’ve had my first taste with an adjusted schedule. I’m feeling good about the rest of the year at this point. Here’s how it went.

Monday. I felt a little sick, but luckily, I didn’t have to teach. Monday is a scheduled day off for me, though because of TKD and a Teacher’s Conversation Class I’ve decided to continue in Dana C. (the last ATE)’s absence, I probably will not use this day to its full traveling potential this semester. At any rate, this Monday, I came into the office for two reasons. First, I wanted to check the internet, which took a fair amount of time. Second, I wanted to finish lesson planning. I had been told my co-teacher that the children are just plain curious about me at this point, so maybe I could just introduce myself for my first lesson. Sounded good to me, although it meant making a PPT about myself, my family, and St. Louis because I wanted to use pictures. This took forever.

On Tuesday, I still feel a little sick. This is not good as Dana C. ended up being sick for six months, my co-teacher informs me, and Jacob, the ATE before Dana, was sick for a couple months, my host family has informed me. At any rate, I promise my co-teacher that I will seek medical attention if the symptoms persist until Thursday. I’ll be ok though, because on Tuesdays I only teach one class anyway. It’s at 8:30 in the morning and then I’m done for the day. I can go home and rest. At least, that’s what I think.

I find out from the English teacher who lives next door to me during the week, and who has graciously offered to give me a ride to school, that there was a schedule change because one of the other English teachers had to go out of town to attend his friend’s dad’s funeral. Oh, ok. That’s fine. So what will I be teaching today? Will I be teaching at all? Can I just go home now? She doesn’t know, but assures me she will find out as soon as we arrive.

[Cultural note: At Korean schools, if a teacher has to take a leave of absence, the powers that be change the teaching schedule, sometimes until it is topsy-turvy. Contrast this with the American system where a substitute teacher is called in. The Korean system has its advantages, of course. You don’t have to worry about someone who is not really qualified to teach a particular subject basically playing baby sitter for an hour. On the other hand, the American system of substitute teachers ends up being a training ground for future educators as well as avoids the administrative hassles that accompany schedule changes. I think, in either case, communication is key, and since I can’t read the daily announcements that pop up so cheerily on my school’s instant messenger, I hope the staff can remember to keep me appraised in the future…]

It turns out I have two classes that day instead of the one I planned on. No biggie. I’m doing the same lesson all week anyway.

Since it was my first day teaching, I got my initial gauge of how good the student’s English is. They may be reading Harry Potter in English, but they sure can’t talk about it, or understand an English speaker if they’re talking about it. “Hello, how are you?” is hard for them. So, it looks like I’ll have to start from square one, speaking wise. Even worse, I’ll have co-teacher supervision for a while. This is because the vice-principal walked in on my class while a couple of students slept, which I took care of as soon as I noticed it. Oh, well. The English teachers will sit in and be bored, unless I can convince them to take part in the activities too.

The rest of the lessons get better as the week goes on and as I get a gauge for how the students are reacting to different parts. This is good, as I felt worse and worse with each one because of the sickness taking hold of my sinuses and bowels. I essentially broke the lesson up into two parts. Part one talked about what I expected from the class and what they could expect from me:

Class Expectations:
1. Speak English.
2. Show respect.
3. Have fun!

Teacher Expectations:
1. Speak English (the alternatives being Korean or, more likely given my training, Spanish).
2. Speak slowly (just in case I get excited).
3. Talk about America (a little bit… they could really use more practice in speaking and listening as far as I’m concerned…)

There were some dismayed faces when I told them it would be an English only class. (Or maybe they were more confused… or stunned that they had a teacher with brown hair, hazel eyes, a red beard, and a short stature and thus somewhat resembling Gimli from The Lord of the Rings Trilogy.) So, I had to explain that practicing speaking English was the only way to get good at it. I’m good at it because I’ve practiced my entire life. They’re good at Korean because they’ve practiced it. I suck at Korean because I haven’t, etc. They understood then. Still, I think I sense some skepticism about their abilities to do this.

As for show "respect," no one knew this word, so I related it to insa. When they saw a teacher in the hall, what did they do? They bowed to the teacher and greeted them using the polite-informal style, of course. This is respect. Being nice to each other. OH! Heads nod.

And “Have fun!”? I included this because, as I told them, English class is hard. There is no way to make it easy on them. It is going to be in essence hard to speak a language that they have never spoken and probably will not practice when they go home. Thus, they need a good attitude about it. If they go into class thinking, I will be angry about learning English because I hate learning English, then class will be very, very, very hard, as it was for me learning Korean. If they come into class thinking, English is hard, but I will try my best and have fun learning it,
then English class will only be hard, and that’s easier than very, very, very hard.

The second part of the presentation was an introduction to myself and my family and my hometown. Here, I could throw in a few jokes. I told them that my dad was fat, but they shouldn’t tell him I said that because it would make him angry. (Incidentally, Dad, if you’re reading this, you are fat, but you have good cholesterol and blood pressure, so I won’t
bother you about that. Sorry for disrespecting you, but thank you for understanding.) I asked them who they thought my mom was. A surprising amount said that she must be my older sister. Then, when I asked about my younger sister, they thought she was also my older
sister, or perhaps my girlfriend, or even, as one very confused and embarrassed boy shouted out, my boyfriend. I told them that, while it’s true that my sister is bigger and taller than me, she is my younger sister. BUT, because she is bigger and taller than me, if we fight, I have to run away. Lots of laughs for that. I still held the higher ground though. I told them that because I am so fast, I can hit her, run away, run back, hit her again, run away, etc. In the end, therefore, “I win.” (Futurama quote. Anyone? Anyone?)

I was also able to incorporate Spanish into every presentation. As I took them on my whirlwind tour of the places I lived in the United States, I told them that many people in Los Angeles speak Spanish, not English, as their primary language. I then rattled off something Spanish, which some the kids liked and others were just plain confused about as they couldn’t understand most of what I said anyway.

Finally, I was able to get a few good reactions out of my “Pirates of Penzance” makeup picture, the Arch, Ted Drewes’, Forest Park being free, and the magnificence that is the Cathedral
Basilica, my favorite attraction in St. Louis. The lessons went well, according to the English
teachers, despite the fact that the students could not understand most of what happened. (They usually preface my lesson with a short Korean speech to the students. I think they’ve been telling the kids, “If you don’t understand him, it’s ok. Listening to the foreign guy is good
practice for you anyway.” In other words, the teachers are just happy to have me around.)

I’m fairly popular with the kids, at any rate. They think I’m funny, and maybe next week
they’ll be more willing to approach me. After all, I’ve already gotten a marriage proposal this week from a student who apparently thinks I’m quite handsome. Hopefully not all of their bravery in the face of the bearded man will be other this type. But the bravery in itself will be a blessing.

I have one goal for this year—to inspire confidence. I do not intend to teach these children anything drastically new. Rather, they have been studying my native tongue for at least three
years, if not more. When I’m through here, I’d like them to be at least willing to try saying what they can already read. If they sound like Koreans, that’s fine. They are, and the idea that some people want perfect diction out these kids is preposterous. (There are more English speakers
in India than in the United States, so if you want to talk about standard dialect, don’t look at U.S.) I just want them trying. They know more than they think. They’re just scared shitless of looking bad. Hopefully, I can make them look “bad”, they’ll realize that it’s not so “bad”, and then they won’t care about looking “bad”. This is my intention.

To do this, I want to use James Asher’s TPR (Total Physical Response). It’s a language education methodology based on the idea that as babies we learn language through performing the correct action for commands and thus receiving affirming praise (e.g. “Smile for Aunt Mildred!”). It worked well for me with Spanish, as I was able, after only one year of instruction, to skip Spanish 2 and enter into Spanish 3. It builds vocabulary like crazy, helps the student gain fluency with the words he or she knows (meaning the ability to comprehend and generate novel
sentences instead of just parroting dialogues), and thus inspires confidence in the student. Apparently, it has a following in South Korea, and one of the ATE extendees actually has been
encouraged time and time again to use it in the classroom. Since I think comprehension is going to have to come for these kids before production, I’ll start with some simple command exercises using TPR and work from there.

Despite a game plan, though, I still have things to be fairly apprehensive about. TPR might flop, for one thing, and I might have to backpedal to something else. That’s just the essence of teaching without any experience I guess. For another thing, I have not seen ALL of my students. As I said earlier, I’m planning on teaching a conversational English class for the
non-English speaking H.S. teachers. I’m assured that this is very casual however. They just want survival English, from what I can tell. Another group of students I have to worry about, though, is the community members who I will have to teach twice a day. There is one class of about 5 advanced students who are able to discuss newspaper articles. (In all seriousness, that should be tremendous fun!) The rest of the classes are lower level than my H.S. students,
so I’ll probably just do TPR with them as well.

It’s unknown territory though, so, girded with my knowledge of English and keen sense of wit, I press onward, hoping that the bright, but flickering light of the Program which I guard will not sputter and die as it shines into the linguistic ignorance of the hamlet's populace. (Homer, eat
your heart out.)

A String of Small Victories to End the Week Well!

Today was an exceptionally good day. First off, I’m feeling a little better today. I seem to have contracted some sort of viral infection that most foreigners get when they come to the hamlet. If treated properly, it will go away fairly quickly. If left alone, it can last for up to six months before it finally leaves your system. So, I got my drugs from the hospital yesterday and have been taking them at the prescribed intervals. I’m still sick, but a little better goes a long way in teaching. Yesterday was a struggle to keep my energy up. Today was a challenge.

I only had one class today, so that helped my mood a little. Also, since my class was at the end of the day, I could spend most of the day catching up on email and talking with friends on AIM. By the end of the day, I was getting pretty bored though, so I decided to start a couple conversation strings on ATEB and see what happened. In one, I posted my lesson plan for next week as a possible way to teach English conversation to kids who can’t even form the sounds, much less recognize them. It’s been downloaded a few times already, so that felt good too.

But then came the victories. First off, my last class of the week went swimmingly. I had them laughing and nodding their heads and repeating and sometimes even spontaneously talking. One girl in particular (I think she’s one of the many Kim’s (김) I see everywhere in Korea…) was overzealous to show how much she wanted to speak English, and thus kept repeating things by accident when I didn’t want her to repeat them. She was good natured about it though. Oh, and for the record, when I showed my students a family picture, about 25% of my students thought my mom was my sister, 50% thought my sister was older than me (which is fair, as she is bigger), and one particularly embarrassed chap thought my sister was my girlfriend, and another even more embarrassed chap thought my sister was my boyfriend, though I think he just got his genders confused. Korean language doesn’t have them, you know.

The second victory came when I asked some of the 선생님 who were leaving the school if they could give me directions to the Post Office. These 선생님I know cannot speak English. At any rate, they offered to drive me to the Post Office instead. Unfortunately, there was construction, so they just said, some in Korean, some in English, “Get out. Turn right. Post Office on right.” Got it. So, I got to go to the post office by myself and fire off a couple of letters to America. (Mom, Dad, Rach – This means keep an eye out for a letter in an orange envelope. There’s a present inside for you. And, yes, Rach, I sent it to your school address. ^^) Money speaks volumes in a foreign country. If you can say, “How much is it?” you can get by with a lot of things survival wise.

The third victory actually came twice (just like I wish Christmas would, or at least Thanksgiving). I decided that since I had such a long walk home from the Post Office anyway, I would try to find a dojang (도장), a Taekwondo school. Actually, there was one in particular I wanted to find—the one that Dana C., the ATE assigned to the hamlet last year, went to. I figured that they would be used to having a foreigner around, and thus more patient with me when I didn’t understand. (This despite the fact that one of the P.E. teacher’s t-shirts at my school proclaims, “Sport—The Universal Language”. All I have to say to that is, “What the snarf does 앞차기 mean? … What? … Front kick? … Front kick. Oh, ok.) So, as I wandered aimlessly, I ran into one of my host sister's friends riding on her moped, which she proudly announced was an “autobai” (autobike or motorcycle). Oh, Konglish! What would I do without you? Anyway, she asked me where I was going, obviously a little surprised to see me so far from the H.S. or home.

“I’m looking for a dojang.”
“A dojang?! Whiche? Whiche?”
“Well, I’m not sure. I know it’s by a blue church.” Blank stare. “A church with a blue roof.”
“Oh!”

She firmly pointed the opposite direction she was going, and I thanked her.

Well, I followed her firm direction to the other end of town, where I noticed there was no blue church, but there was a dojang. Well, I thought to myself, might as well try this one. I walk in and talk to the instructor who is very excited to see me. I proceed to tell him in a very strange form of Korean that I want to learn TKD. I point to a yellowbelt. Find out what days of the week and at what time TKD meets using a calendar and a lot of repetition of hours on the clock. Tell him that’s too early because I have class then. Okay, a later time will do. Ask how much it is. 70,000 won. Check. Wait! For the month. Yes. Ok, check. By the way, did you know Dana? No. No? No. I see. Thank you.

Well, it’s not Dana’s dojang, but it will do, I think to myself. And begin to walk back towards my homestay. And there it is. The blue church. And there it is. The apartment complex where Dana’s dojang is. I walk in and talk to the assistant instructor. Again, in broken Korean:

“I’m the English teacher at the H.S. Did you know Dana?” Yes. “Oh…” So I go through the whole rigmarole again, and even get across that Dana asked me about when he was going to receive the physical belt from his black belt test. So, now I’m signed up for TKD at two dojang, though hopefully the first will get the message that I’m not doing TKD there. I did leave my phone number though, so maybe I’ll get a phone call in Korean saying, “Why aren’t you coming for classes?!” “I’m sorry, I, uh… don’t speak Korean?”

At any rate, TKD meets five days a week, M-F from 6:00-8:00 pm. I always wondered how Dana got his black belt in a year. Two hours a night will do it for you!

Finally, when I came home, I was able, after about 10 minutes of number recitation in both English and Korean, to tell my host father that I signed up for TKD and when it met. This will actually be better for me as far as my homestay situation is concerned. Previously, I’ve had to eat dinner alone because the family does not make it home until 9:15 pm. Mom is working at the store. Baby brother W. is with her. Middle sister R. is at a language institute. Now that I’ll have TKD until 8:00, the father has asked me to come meet the rest of the family in town when I am finished. “But W. abeoji, I sweat very much!” I indicate with hand motions. Oh, well come to the house, take a shower, then come eat with us. “Okay. I understand.” I get to eat with family again. Can I just say, “Joy!”?

Graduate School Aspirations: Email from the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign

As some of you know, I have a broad range of interests for what to do after my sojourn in Korea is over. One of these is graduate school. I sent out a couple of feeler letters this summer to some history professors. One set of dialogues with Ronald P.T. from the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign has been particularly promising.

He says that, based on my honors thesis that I wrote for my senior year at VALPO, my writing and my abilities with critical analysis are "unusally" good for someone entering graduate school. These are the hardest abilities to develop, so he thinks I can do well in a Ph.D. program.

My main obstacle in doing history for graduate school, East Asian history in particular, is the language barrier. I was never required to learn Japanese or Chinese to study East Asia at VALPO, but graduate schools want me to be proficient at reading academic articles in at least one East Asian language in my field before entry. My obstacle is that I don't have any at this point. So, basically, I have to spend a couple of years out here learning Korean or start taking some classes. Having Japanese going in would be nice too, but optional. Same for traditional Chinese and random European academic language, say German or French. So, language goals if I go into Grad School:

Before Grad School:
Korean
(Japanese)

During Grad School:
Korean
Japanese
Traditional Chinese
(French or German)

Well, better get cracking. (SLEEPS and SNORES!) ^^

The Hanja Teacher and I

[First, a message to my loyal readers (Long live the readership!): Believe it or not, I have been updating diligently. Unfortunately, I have been doing this on my laptop at my homestay, which is not connected to the internet. The reason you cannot yet see these updates is that I have neglected to transfer them to my jumpdrive so I can put them up when I get to school. I should really ask my host family about getting that internet access set up...

And now for the post!]

I seem to have curried the favor of a certain instructor here. She teaches Hanja (한자) primarily, which are the Chinese characters still extant in the Korean language. Though few and far between in day to day interactions between Koreans, they are very important for reading novels, newspapers, and especially academic journals. This teacher in particular wants to start offering Chinese courses at the school, and so she is taking Chinese at a local institute. When I heard she is learning Chinese, I showed off a little and said "Hello" and "Thank you" to her in that language. (Btw, it took me an obscenely long time to remember how to say these things, but I want to thank PBS in America for producing the show "Sagwa: The Chinese Siamese Cat", without which I would not be able to produce anything in Chinese.) She thought I could actually speak Chinese after that, and rattled off a string of unintelligible words. At that point, I had to explain that I only knew those two phrases. Oh! She understood then, and I thought that would be the end of that.

But, she seems to have this idea that we can have a trilingual exchange. On Wednesday, she asked me to take a walk with her to the bank and then to the supermarket for some fresh air and a popcicle. I thought, "Oh, great! She doesn't know very much English, so I'll get to practice some Korean and get out of this stuffy gyomushil (teacher's office, 교무실)!" Little did I know, she wanted to also teach me some Chinese. (Rebecca H. will probably be very happy about what follows.) And so begins our trilingual friendship of utility, in which she teaches me two languages, and I teach her one. (Maybe I'm winning?) Every morning, she will walk up to me at some point and say something to me in Chinese, say what it means in Korean, and if there is any confusion, clarify in English. It's a nice daily ritual, and I hope it continues throughout the semester. Though, I also hope the other Korean teachers will not think me ingenuine in my desire to learn Korean, which is still strong (see the post about my email from University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign).

The Inexpensive Hospital Visit

I regret to inform you that I have fallen ill. I am happy to report that this is entirely normal for people coming to the hamlet. It seems there’s something viral in the water that nearly everyone contracts and builds up an immunity to. Call it Montezuma’s revenge, Korea style, or as my host father put it with R.’s help, “Area sickness. [The hamlet's] area sickness.” Both previous ATEs to this area contracted it to varying degrees of severity. The first was sick for a couple of months. The second for six months, but he refused to go to the hospital until he had to go in to the ER. Even one of the native Korean English teachers, who grew up on the coast, contracted something when she first came here. My case isn’t too serious. A touch of sinus congestion and general discomfort associated with the common cold. A feeling of diarrhea, though only going once a day as per usual. It does come out different colors now though…

At any rate, these symptoms were bad enough for me that I didn’t want to repeat my predecessor’s semester long experience with the area sickness. I called the Powers that Be to tell them I was heading into the hospital and to ask about how to fill out my government insurance forms. They confirmed that my symptoms were the same as the former ATEs and that if I got any worse, I should probably come into Seoul. (That didn’t sound good.) Filled out the insurance forms. Asked my co-teacher to take me to the hospital, which she gladly did having already encouraged me to head in and also now having an excuse to skip a dedication ceremony for the new dormitory that the H.S. just built. So, we went. The doctor didn’t even really check me out. No weight check, height check, nose check, ear check or throat check. He just asked for my symptoms, my co-teacher translated, I was diagnosed with a common cold and a viral infection, prescribed some medicine and I was sent off to the front desk to pay my bill.

I was a little worried about this. I had to pay out of pocket. My bills would be covered by Uncle Sam, of course, but I had to pay them first and then I would be reimbursed. Turns out I didn’t have to be worried one bit. One hospital visit at the Hamlet General costs a whopping,

11,400 RoK won or $12.46.

Really? Yes, really. Oh, well, just put that on the credit card then.

I talked with my co-teacher about this. Turns out, that’s the going rate without insurance. With insurance, what my co-teacher pays, is about $5 a visit. Contrast this with the United States where a routine check-up like this costs around $20 for a co-pay if your insurance policy is decent and about $100 if you can’t afford insurance. (My teacher flipped when I told her about this.) Granted, South Korean medicine isn’t what U.S. medicine is, but for me to come in so I can get an antibiotics prescription from a guy who’s only going to confirm what I already know? $12 sounds a lot better than $100.

Oh, and how much did those drugs cost, again without insurance? The same. 11,400 RoK won or $12.46. I paid this in cash.

So, if you’re in Korea, hospitals are cheap. I wouldn’t want my cancer treated here, but for the routine stuff, it’s a steal.

Small Victories

A dear friend of mine, Caitlin K., who I knew for too short a time, sent me a letter talking about small victories. She has recently returned to the United States from her time abroad in Germany and told me about how she would try to find the small victories she had everyday. This seemed to help with her cultural adjustment, which she said was difficult despite the fact that she knew so much German already and was in a Western culture. How much more so must mine be, she commented. The example she gave was checking out a library book. My small victory today was even smaller, but I feel just as worthwhile.

I needed to use the restroom today. I remembered where the restroom was from my tour of the school buildings, so I proceeded in that direction. Lo, and behold! Upon arriving at the stall, I noticed there was no toilet paper. So, I proceeded back to the teacher’s lounge and walked boldly up to the first person I saw and said, “In the bathroom, there is no toilet paper.” She understood immediately and helped me procure some. [She also said that I speak very well. I am beginning to understand that this means that what I can say, I say well. It does not have anything to do necessarily with actual facility with the language.] It was a small victory, but a relieving one. I’m just glad I noticed before I sat down. Think of having to ask the first person to come into the bathroom in stilted Korean, “Um… hey, there! You don’t have any toilet paper, do you?”

May I find other victories in the future.

Arrival in the Hamlet

My family and friends,

Thank you for the letters of encouragement you sent me. Some even brought me to tears, though perhaps they all did as their force built up over the course of the letters. This was a little embarrassing as I have to read them at the High School, there being no internet access at my homestay. They have offered to get it, however, and I may take them up on this. It is not a necessity, but it would be a comfort to be able to communicate with you all that much more easily.

Yesterday I arrived in the Hamlet. I was presented to my principal and co-teacher during a formal ceremony at Yonsei University in Seoul. After this, I ate lunch with them. It was a delicious meal and very fancy. My co-teacher speaks English very well and seems to want to help me in any way she can. Unfortunately, that help will have to wait until Monday, as she is having an operation performed in Chuncheon. She has asked me to call her Sonny or Snow White since this is what the students call her, though I suspect she is also trying to make things a little easier on me. I appreciate this.

Because of the operation, the principal (교장선생님) and I traveled to the hamlet alone. This was a little awkward as he does not speak any English. However, he was very friendly and when I fell asleep a few times (by accident, as I did not want to seem rude) he let me be. The hamlet is about 3-4 hours from Seoul by car. Sonny said at dinner that this is far. I laughed at this a little and told her about what far means in the United States, where road trips for the more adventurous souls can take whole days. The principle and she laughed at this a little.

We arrived in the town safely around 7:00 pm, at which point I met my omeoni (어머니, host-mother), who owns a beauty supply store, the younger daughter R., and two of the teachers. One in particular, Mr. Lee, has been particularly helpful with my adjustment as he is the head English teacher it seems and can speak English fluently. We all went out for samgyeopsal, after which I finally met the rest of my host family. The eldest sister is H., and she is a student learning to be an elementary school teacher. She speaks English better than she will admit, and her presence has been a blessing. Unfortunately, she will be leaving for Chuncheon soon to continue her studies. The youngest brother’s name is W. He is in pre-school, and he apparently watches an English conversation video called “Talk Talk” almost every night.

I stayed up with the family and talked with them about many things, among which was our common faith. I think that they are Presbyterians, something which I may or may not be able to confirm tomorrow when we attend church together. They were talking about John Wesley at any rate. [I have since discovered that they are in fact Methodists. I should know my church leaders a little better...] They asked if American Christians drink. I laughed and told them it depended. I am a Lutheran and Lutherans are notorious for drinking beer, I explained. Many Baptists on the other hand won’t touch any alcohol. I told them about my friends Beth and Ted H. who recently married, one a Baptist, the other a Lutheran respectively, and how at the wedding festivities, the Baptists would hardly drink, while the Lutherans imbibed deeply, even having champagne with their orange juice in the morning. They found this entertaining.

I finally went to bed around 11:00 pm, as I had to wake up early for breakfast at 7:30 am. Breakfast was a rather dinner like affair, as it usually is with Korean cuisine—rice, spicy soup, kimchi and other vegetables. I will have to explain to my host mother that, while I enjoy Korean food, I usually do not eat much for breakfast regardless.

Then, my host father drove Ruri and me to school. I was deposited at the main gate to the H.S. without any indication of where at the school I was supposed to go. Luckily, my students are apparently very glad to see me, and thus were more than happy to point me to the main building. There Mr. Lee met me and showed me to my desk and gave me a tour of the building. There is apparently a wing of the school that is entirely dedicated to English, an English only zone, where the students can come during the lunch period and participate in situational conversations for prizes (e.g. buying plane tickets at the airport, asking for directions to certain landmarks).

Later in the day, I was presented to the entire school in an assembly in which I was given flowers. I gave a rather poor address in Korean, which I tried to supplement with English which was an even bigger disaster. Ah, well. I did get a cheer when I said “Thank you” in Korean. I also received several compliments on my pronunciation with conversational phrases, though my pronunciation of names seems to be a little off.

My schedule will be fairly light. I have 16 classes of about 50 min. each. Eight classes are with the students and the other eight are with various adult community members. The later classes will be smaller and will be more freeform. Apparently, I am just to ask the members what they would like to talk about. We shall see how this goes.

But as for the schedule itself, I will work Tuesday through Friday. I think they will expect me to stay during the entire day, even though I only teach one class on Tuesday, and this early in the morning. This is fine by me. I can move my Korean language textbooks to the school and study there in between my lesson planning. I am glad for the 3-day weekends. They will allow me to explore the area and go hiking. They will also allow for longer trips to other cities should I so desire, though I will have to make sure I have permission from my host family so I do not offend them.

At 12:30, I was told that I should go home, so I loaded my flowers onto my bike and rode away. Many of the students wished me a friendly farewell as I rode back to the house, where I met my abeoji watching television. The rest of the day has been spent taking naps and watching television, unpacking and writing this note home, which I will not be able to send until Monday. During the unpacking, I discovered that one of the apple butter jars I had brought as a gift was damaged during the flight. It was incredibly complicated trying to figure out how to tell the abeoji that I wanted to throw it away. He thought I wanted to eat it! I still need to find a stationary store to buy gift wrap for the presents I brought. Apparently, merely presenting the gift is a no-no.