This Saturday, I managed to get out to Wonju finally. At a 6,400 won and 1.5 hour bus ride, Wonju is the nearest big city to my hamlet, about 69 km. When I’m in good enough shape and if the weather ever improves (It’s been raining a lot because of monsoon season.), I’ll actually be able to bike there in a few hours. The bus is convenient enough, though, and I was able to procure a ticket by myself. Nothing complicated. I just walked briskly up to the ticket window and said, “I’m going to Wonju. How much is it?”
Wonju is mostly important to me because three of my friends from orientation live there: two other ATEs, one secondary and one elementary, and one of the former RAs for our dormitory. The last of these is at school in Chuncheon however, so he’ll only be in Wonju occasionally.
I met up with my friends, had lunch at one of their homestays (forgot a gift… BAD, Cultural Ambassador! BAD!), and then we went out to see the town. It was raining, so we mostly just did some quick shopping for someone’s upcoming birthday (I won’t say whose, just that she lives in Kirksville) and sat around in a coffee shop catching up on everything good and de-stressing about everything not so good. The former RA had just visited Sapporo, Japan, so he had lots of pictures to share.
(CULTURAL NOTE: To quote the ATE in this hamlet before me, “Koreans do not know how to make coffee.” This is true. They mix their coffee using pre-made packets of instant coffee, sugar, and cream. Though this may be very delicious (노무 맛있어요, learned a new phrase!), it is not coffee and does not have nearly the same effect as a good straight shot of black of French Roast, much less some of the darker blends. The coffee shop we went to Wonju, however, brews their coffee. A strong, dark cup of brewed coffee is a necessity for a college student and probably the greatest comfort to the working person. I am somewhere in between necessity and comfort at this point in my life, so my feelings on this matter are quite strong. I will make several trips to Wonju, if only to partake of this luxury. At 4,000-7,000 won a cup, it is a luxury indeed. I also saw the best beer selection I’ve yet seen in Korea at this establishment. They even had Negro Modelo. I’ll have to return for this as well.)
It’s a fun town. Next time I’ll probably try to spend the night though. My RA friend has offered to host me at his apartment where he lives with his mom. Really quite generous of him. I felt a little rushed getting out of Wonju because the last bus back to the Hamlet leaves around 6:00 pm.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
Teaching: Week 2 summary
This week went decently teaching wise. I know now that most of the students can comprehend the basic commands covered in TPR, but for the lower level classes I will probably press this system for the sake of their growing accustomed to my voice. I’m especially anxious about the first graders because, with the Korean academic year finishing in winter as it does, they are the students I will have until June, and thus the students I can make the most progress with. The second graders will be advancing to third grade where they will begin studying almost exclusively for their university entrance examinations which focus on reading English, not speaking it. Thus, I will probably never see them again. They will be replaced with a new batch of first graders fresh from the hamlet’s Middle School who I will have to start all over with in terms of lessons.
One thing that was a big success this last week with my high school students was the “Flea, Fly, Mosquito” song, a repeat after me song that was always a favorite at Arrowhead Lutheran Camp.
This was my first week with the adult classes. I have two of them and each meets for two hours a day, two days a week. Can anyone say, “Christ College Seminar”?
I can. And I will. The advanced adult class is actually pretty stinkin’ good with their English. By good I mean that they can read news articles and discuss them fairly fluently. They also wouldn’t mind listening to a couple of songs and interpreting the lyrics. I’m in Heaven! Hopefully I don’t get too excited and ruin everything by throwing Plato at them or something awful like that. It won’t come to that, I promise you, though I am tempted to do the Michael W. version of Romeo & Juliet with them. It’s visually expressive enough that I’m sure they’ll be able to follow it. One concern with doing that though is the presence of a pastor in the group and a couple of housewife mothers. Pastors here tend to be more conservative than in America. Housewife mothers tend to agree with them. I’ll have to be careful.
The beginners/intermediate class (notice the singular-plural switch, as it’s accurate to the class’ demographic) is truly a beginners’ class. They know their alphabet and a few stock phrases, but getting them to talk will be a bear. Since they’re mostly housewives or ajuma, though, I’m teaching them how to go shopping. Last week, we went to the supermarket. Next week, we’ll review that and move on to the department store. Maybe by the end of the semester I can set up a shopping spree activity for them or something…
So, overall a good week. There is a regret, though. Unfortunately, I taught some of the high school classes how to shake hands like Americans. Korean handshakes are very conciliatory and nice and … Well, generally they’re meant to show deference to the person you’re shaking hands with, which is not what you’re going for in a good American handshake. An American handshake should express a kind of friendly strength. Instead of saying, “I am honored to be in your presence, oh social superior of mine,” you’re trying to say, “I’m someone you can depend on when the going gets tough.” Nation of supposed equals and all that.
What was unfortunate about the handshake portion of the lesson is that there was a rash of pink eye going around the school (which Koreans call red eye), and I may have exacerbated the problem as well as infected myself. Live and learn.
(For those who just developed an over-reactive look of terror at the mention of pink eye and me possibly having it, e.g. Claire R. and possibly, though less probably, Mom: The jury’s still out on whether my eyes are a little red because of disease or lack of sleep. Probably a little of both, but they haven’t turned the color of Pepto-Bismol yet, so I’m in the clear for the time being. Incidentally, should Crayola ever hold another color naming contest for an obscenely large crayon box of 5,000 different colors, I’m hoping there’s a good thick pink in there. Pepto-Bismol pink really should be a color in the Crayola opus.)
One thing that was a big success this last week with my high school students was the “Flea, Fly, Mosquito” song, a repeat after me song that was always a favorite at Arrowhead Lutheran Camp.
Flea!The kids really enjoyed the rhythmic aspect of the song (slap, clap, snap, clap on a 4/4 count), and I enjoyed watching their faces grow wide with terror when I began to accelerate the tempo. I’m justifying using these songs in the classroom for two reasons: 1) they will help with pronunciation and recall of vocabulary learned from the songs; 2) they are just plain fun and an easy way to keep the kids awake. As for the first, Korean children have difficulty pronouncing “th” sounds and “l”/“r” sounds (“l” and “r” are a single letter in Korean as in many Asian languages from what I understand). The song offers sufficient opportunities for practicing this without being too frustrating. As for vocabulary, I got to teach the difference between itch and scratch as well as some common North American bugs. Besides, how many Korean kids do you know who ask for calamine lotion if they have an itch (not a scratch). Mine can. (Incidentally, they call flea markets “flea markets” out here. Except in Korean. Go figure.) If I really wanted to focus on the vocabulary and take my time with the song, I could stretch out the lesson so the song took the entire 50-min. This was probably better for some of the slower classes I did this for, anyway.
Flea, Fly!
Flea, Fly, Mosquito!
Mosquito!
Calamine, calamine, calamine lotion.
Oh, no, no, no, not the lotion!
Itchy, itchy, scratchy, scratchy. Think I’ve got one on my back-y.
Quick! Get the bug spray. Think he went that-a way!
Schzz! Ugh! Got that bug.
This was my first week with the adult classes. I have two of them and each meets for two hours a day, two days a week. Can anyone say, “Christ College Seminar”?
I can. And I will. The advanced adult class is actually pretty stinkin’ good with their English. By good I mean that they can read news articles and discuss them fairly fluently. They also wouldn’t mind listening to a couple of songs and interpreting the lyrics. I’m in Heaven! Hopefully I don’t get too excited and ruin everything by throwing Plato at them or something awful like that. It won’t come to that, I promise you, though I am tempted to do the Michael W. version of Romeo & Juliet with them. It’s visually expressive enough that I’m sure they’ll be able to follow it. One concern with doing that though is the presence of a pastor in the group and a couple of housewife mothers. Pastors here tend to be more conservative than in America. Housewife mothers tend to agree with them. I’ll have to be careful.
The beginners/intermediate class (notice the singular-plural switch, as it’s accurate to the class’ demographic) is truly a beginners’ class. They know their alphabet and a few stock phrases, but getting them to talk will be a bear. Since they’re mostly housewives or ajuma, though, I’m teaching them how to go shopping. Last week, we went to the supermarket. Next week, we’ll review that and move on to the department store. Maybe by the end of the semester I can set up a shopping spree activity for them or something…
So, overall a good week. There is a regret, though. Unfortunately, I taught some of the high school classes how to shake hands like Americans. Korean handshakes are very conciliatory and nice and … Well, generally they’re meant to show deference to the person you’re shaking hands with, which is not what you’re going for in a good American handshake. An American handshake should express a kind of friendly strength. Instead of saying, “I am honored to be in your presence, oh social superior of mine,” you’re trying to say, “I’m someone you can depend on when the going gets tough.” Nation of supposed equals and all that.
What was unfortunate about the handshake portion of the lesson is that there was a rash of pink eye going around the school (which Koreans call red eye), and I may have exacerbated the problem as well as infected myself. Live and learn.
(For those who just developed an over-reactive look of terror at the mention of pink eye and me possibly having it, e.g. Claire R. and possibly, though less probably, Mom: The jury’s still out on whether my eyes are a little red because of disease or lack of sleep. Probably a little of both, but they haven’t turned the color of Pepto-Bismol yet, so I’m in the clear for the time being. Incidentally, should Crayola ever hold another color naming contest for an obscenely large crayon box of 5,000 different colors, I’m hoping there’s a good thick pink in there. Pepto-Bismol pink really should be a color in the Crayola opus.)
TKD Week 1 and Hanja lessons
This was my first week of TaeKwonDo since orientation. It wasn’t even a full week because of the English teachers’ welcome party and the festival, but I certainly did learn a lot. Mostly, I learned that two weeks off of TKD and going to a class with 40 students to start off with isn’t very good for form. In other words, I spend the majority of my first lesson just going over the first kick I learned: apchagi, or front kick. This is a two-hour lesson mind you. This week, I also learned the fourth form, though I’m sure if someone asked me to do it at this point, I’d be slow as molasses. But now I supposed know two forms, first and fourth, so that’s pretty cool.
(CULTURAL NOTE: For those who don’t know, a form is essentially a choreographed routine of different punches, chops, kicks, and blocks. As far as I can tell, you’d never use it in fighting, but it looks pretty darn cool. I believe memorizing forms is one of the main components to advancing through the belt rankings in TKD. As such, just because someone has a black belt in TKD, that doesn’t mean they win a fight. It just means they can look cool in a fight. Most of the black belts in my class would probably get creamed in a brawl. Not that I want to fight them, mind you… Just saying.)
What’s nice about the class is that pretty much everyone in there is a black belt or a red-black belt, so if the sabeonim (sp?), the kwajangnim’s assistant, needs to spend extra time helping me get my form down for a kick or a punch, he can just tell the other students to work on something for a while and then give me some private instruction. So, I’m getting private TKD instruction for about $70 a month. Pretty groovy.
It’s also fun because most of the students are elementary school kids. Thus, they aren’t actually black belts because they need to be 15 or 16 years old for that. They wear the red-black belts instead because they know the forms necessary to have a black belt. But the fun thing is, even though they can show me up anytime on the forms and the drills, they still have to respect me because I’m older than them. Plus, they’re just fun to play around with. Especially in sparing. Every time I spar with one of them, their eyes get wide as they think to themselves, “This guy has a foot of reach on me with his kicks and one of his lunges equals two of mine. How the heck am I supposed to practice with him?!” To be honest, I’m thinking the same thing.
There’s one student that’s a little older though. Still doesn’t have his black belt, but he instructs me when the sabeonim is busy training the others in more advanced forms. He’s the one that taught me the Fourth Form. He smiles at me a lot, and I think he likes having me around, but he can’t speak English. Alas. He’s at the middle school in the Hamlet, I think, so maybe I can ask if he knows one of my host sisters.
At any rate, I speak a little Korean with the kids. Mostly, they ask where I’m from and stare at my eyes and beard. The sabeonim even had me give a little speech in Korean to introduce myself, which went much better than the speech I gave to the high school two weeks earlier.
The dojang I attend also has hanja classes. By hanja, I mean the Chinese characters that still exist in Korean, and by classes, I mean that the TKD students have to write out two characters several times before they can practice. I think I’ll join them. If I go to graduate school, I’ll have to learn the characters anyway, and it will help me bone up on my vocabulary as the pronunciation of the characters is just their Korean equivalent. I’ll just have to bring a dictionary along to translate what I’m writing.
(CULTURAL NOTE: For those who don’t know, a form is essentially a choreographed routine of different punches, chops, kicks, and blocks. As far as I can tell, you’d never use it in fighting, but it looks pretty darn cool. I believe memorizing forms is one of the main components to advancing through the belt rankings in TKD. As such, just because someone has a black belt in TKD, that doesn’t mean they win a fight. It just means they can look cool in a fight. Most of the black belts in my class would probably get creamed in a brawl. Not that I want to fight them, mind you… Just saying.)
What’s nice about the class is that pretty much everyone in there is a black belt or a red-black belt, so if the sabeonim (sp?), the kwajangnim’s assistant, needs to spend extra time helping me get my form down for a kick or a punch, he can just tell the other students to work on something for a while and then give me some private instruction. So, I’m getting private TKD instruction for about $70 a month. Pretty groovy.
It’s also fun because most of the students are elementary school kids. Thus, they aren’t actually black belts because they need to be 15 or 16 years old for that. They wear the red-black belts instead because they know the forms necessary to have a black belt. But the fun thing is, even though they can show me up anytime on the forms and the drills, they still have to respect me because I’m older than them. Plus, they’re just fun to play around with. Especially in sparing. Every time I spar with one of them, their eyes get wide as they think to themselves, “This guy has a foot of reach on me with his kicks and one of his lunges equals two of mine. How the heck am I supposed to practice with him?!” To be honest, I’m thinking the same thing.
There’s one student that’s a little older though. Still doesn’t have his black belt, but he instructs me when the sabeonim is busy training the others in more advanced forms. He’s the one that taught me the Fourth Form. He smiles at me a lot, and I think he likes having me around, but he can’t speak English. Alas. He’s at the middle school in the Hamlet, I think, so maybe I can ask if he knows one of my host sisters.
At any rate, I speak a little Korean with the kids. Mostly, they ask where I’m from and stare at my eyes and beard. The sabeonim even had me give a little speech in Korean to introduce myself, which went much better than the speech I gave to the high school two weeks earlier.
The dojang I attend also has hanja classes. By hanja, I mean the Chinese characters that still exist in Korean, and by classes, I mean that the TKD students have to write out two characters several times before they can practice. I think I’ll join them. If I go to graduate school, I’ll have to learn the characters anyway, and it will help me bone up on my vocabulary as the pronunciation of the characters is just their Korean equivalent. I’ll just have to bring a dictionary along to translate what I’m writing.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
School Festival Highlights and Singing in Korean
On Wednesday, there was no school, as the students and faculty were putting on a festival of sorts. In America, this would most likely be called an Assembly, or maybe in H.S. it would be called a Variety Show. Parents were invited to attend and so many students participated that it was actually held over two separate two-hour blocks of time so that people could go home and eat. (During the actual school day, community members were invited to come to the school to see student made displays set up in the hallways, like the open houses I remember having in elementary school.)
The festival itself was quite entertaining. One notable act was a beat-boxer who, if he were to post on YouTube.com, would probably become one of the top 10 videos within a week. Another was a dynamic duo who performed a Korean dance-style called “Popping,” which seemed like a combination of the smoother elements of American hip-hop dance and the Robot. There was also a rock session performed by many students dressed in various styles of rock fashion. They would switch off depending on what song they were doing, so it was usually a five-man/woman band. The only song I understood was Avril Lavigne’s (which, I have discovered, no Korean can pronounce) “Sk8er Boi”, but generally the songs were well performed.
Finally, the broadcasting club performed a radio drama, something which I wish would come back in the United States. (I used to listen to old radio shows with my dad on Wednesday nights. KNEX 1070 would broadcast them, and I always like them, especially The Adventures of Pancho and Cisco.) The direction was probably the most interesting part. One person actually conducted all the sound cues and dialogue, including dynamics changes and fade-outs. I could not understand anything that was going on in the actual dialogue, of course, except for at the very end. At that point, I heard a car crash, the words omeo, omeo, omeo (Mother) about a gogooglezillion of times, an ambulance, more omeo’s, a steady beep-beep-beep, one long final beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee… and at last a few more omeo’s. Ah, I thought. Omeo has died. My co-teachers cried. I didn’t have sufficient build-up in the plot to accomplish the same depth of emotion, unfortunately. At least that gave me an opportunity to practice traditional Korean male stoicism.
The teachers and myself also performed. We sang two songs. Actually they sang, and I mumbled loudly and on pitch as both songs were in Korean minus the last line of the second song, which read “Hap-py Bir-th Day to you.” (That’s right, folks. You can apparently sing a “th” according to Korean phonology. I’m learning something new everyday!) We all wore black pants, white button-down shirts, and red bowties. A few high school girls screamed my name. It was a good time.
As I said, there were two sets to the festival, and in between people went home for dinner. The teachers, however, all decided to eat together at a local restaurant, where the teachers I had not eaten with yet asked the ubiquitous questions, “Can you eat hot food?” Spicy food, you mean? “Yes, spicy food.” And also, “You have a girlfriend?” No. (The next part I was not prepared for.) “Can we make a blind date for you?”
A la Moe from The Simpsons: “WHA?!?!”
I said, “Maybe.” Problem is, I’m pretty sure they want to set me up with one of the other English teachers. Despite the fact that she’s very pretty and I get along fairly well with her, I’m not too keen on dating her for a couple of reasons. One, we work together. If things go sour, they could go really sour. Two, she lives in a little separate apartment literally attached to the house I live in, and while that could be fantastic while dating, if things go sour, they could go really sour as in the previous scenario. In truth though, I’m just not too keen on getting attached to anyone this year. Everything about my situation is so temporary that I want to be able to pull up roots if I need to without regrets. (I had to learn that the hard way…)
The festival itself was quite entertaining. One notable act was a beat-boxer who, if he were to post on YouTube.com, would probably become one of the top 10 videos within a week. Another was a dynamic duo who performed a Korean dance-style called “Popping,” which seemed like a combination of the smoother elements of American hip-hop dance and the Robot. There was also a rock session performed by many students dressed in various styles of rock fashion. They would switch off depending on what song they were doing, so it was usually a five-man/woman band. The only song I understood was Avril Lavigne’s (which, I have discovered, no Korean can pronounce) “Sk8er Boi”, but generally the songs were well performed.
Finally, the broadcasting club performed a radio drama, something which I wish would come back in the United States. (I used to listen to old radio shows with my dad on Wednesday nights. KNEX 1070 would broadcast them, and I always like them, especially The Adventures of Pancho and Cisco.) The direction was probably the most interesting part. One person actually conducted all the sound cues and dialogue, including dynamics changes and fade-outs. I could not understand anything that was going on in the actual dialogue, of course, except for at the very end. At that point, I heard a car crash, the words omeo, omeo, omeo (Mother) about a gogooglezillion of times, an ambulance, more omeo’s, a steady beep-beep-beep, one long final beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee… and at last a few more omeo’s. Ah, I thought. Omeo has died. My co-teachers cried. I didn’t have sufficient build-up in the plot to accomplish the same depth of emotion, unfortunately. At least that gave me an opportunity to practice traditional Korean male stoicism.
The teachers and myself also performed. We sang two songs. Actually they sang, and I mumbled loudly and on pitch as both songs were in Korean minus the last line of the second song, which read “Hap-py Bir-th Day to you.” (That’s right, folks. You can apparently sing a “th” according to Korean phonology. I’m learning something new everyday!) We all wore black pants, white button-down shirts, and red bowties. A few high school girls screamed my name. It was a good time.
As I said, there were two sets to the festival, and in between people went home for dinner. The teachers, however, all decided to eat together at a local restaurant, where the teachers I had not eaten with yet asked the ubiquitous questions, “Can you eat hot food?” Spicy food, you mean? “Yes, spicy food.” And also, “You have a girlfriend?” No. (The next part I was not prepared for.) “Can we make a blind date for you?”
A la Moe from The Simpsons: “WHA?!?!”
I said, “Maybe.” Problem is, I’m pretty sure they want to set me up with one of the other English teachers. Despite the fact that she’s very pretty and I get along fairly well with her, I’m not too keen on dating her for a couple of reasons. One, we work together. If things go sour, they could go really sour. Two, she lives in a little separate apartment literally attached to the house I live in, and while that could be fantastic while dating, if things go sour, they could go really sour as in the previous scenario. In truth though, I’m just not too keen on getting attached to anyone this year. Everything about my situation is so temporary that I want to be able to pull up roots if I need to without regrets. (I had to learn that the hard way…)
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Party with the yeong-eo seonsaengnim (English teachers) and thoughts on why I came to this country
My fellow English teachers finally got around to arranging a welcome party for me. Before, a couple of them were away on various engagements, but we were all finally in town at the same time. A few other teachers joined us as well from other departments.
It was a delicious meal. 우리 (duck) served up samgeopsal-style with the normal sides of kimchi and sauced up vegetables. There was also quite a bit of soju being poured. I tried my best to keep up, but this unfortunately meant that I couldn’t keep anything down for the majority of the next day. Luckily, I didn’t have to teach.
I spent most of the evening talking with the most fluent of the English teachers. We discussed many things, among them my honors paper and his interest in Anime. He would like to actually team-teach with me at some point, though I fear that this might require too much work to do over successive weeks. Once or twice properly spaced out would be acceptable to me, though.
And of course the ubiquitous question arose, “Why did you decide to come to Korea?” I’ve been getting this question a lot from various people. Here’s the stock answer: At my school, I studied East Asian history, but my school was too small for me to study Korean history. Thus, I only studied Japanese and Chinese history. I feel this is unfortunate since there are three major players in East Asian history, not two, and if I want to continue studies in this field, I should know about that third player, Korea.
The real answer is more something along the lines of, “Well, my Middle Eastern history professor wanted me to apply for The Program, and I picked the country and research topic (Entertaining Teacher from America) that would require the least amount of work on my part. I accepted the opportunity when it came because who wouldn’t accept a one-year paid vacation to a country half-way around the world?
Not that it’s been a vacation, nor that I thought it would be. Far from it, in fact, but I can’t help but feel a little guilty about my less than pure motivations. Like I’m using these people somehow. Sure they’re getting something out of it, but from what little I know about Korean history, about how they’ve been stomped on by every major power in the world, and used, and torn, stitched… Well, I just feel like I’m a part of that now. A little. When I realize how many people come here to teach just because Korea will pay them a lot of money to come and how many of those people do not bother to learn about Korea or Koreans or Korean and how many of those people do not g.a.r.a. what happens in this country…
For instance, in our last night in Chuncheon, my friends were at a bar. (For those of you who know Korean, you’ll appreciate this. I just typed “our friends” and had to correct it. Man, I’m in it deep now!) They met some Canadians also teaching English in Korea through another program. The other program doesn’t really appreciate our program for some reason, perhaps because it’s U.S. government sponsored (or perhaps because we actually teach by ourselves while they mostly just help out as live tape recorders). At any rate, they were getting a little pushy with my friends, so my friends asked them, “How long have you been in Korea?” A year or so. “And how much Korean do you know?” Korean? Why would we bother to learn that?
That kind of attitude? Well, it makes me feel a little guilty about my own less than pure original motivations for coming here. Luckily, it also motivates me to not become one of those people. Luckily, my original intention for coming here is going out the window, and my desire to actually learn about this unique people is growing everyday.
It was a delicious meal. 우리 (duck) served up samgeopsal-style with the normal sides of kimchi and sauced up vegetables. There was also quite a bit of soju being poured. I tried my best to keep up, but this unfortunately meant that I couldn’t keep anything down for the majority of the next day. Luckily, I didn’t have to teach.
I spent most of the evening talking with the most fluent of the English teachers. We discussed many things, among them my honors paper and his interest in Anime. He would like to actually team-teach with me at some point, though I fear that this might require too much work to do over successive weeks. Once or twice properly spaced out would be acceptable to me, though.
And of course the ubiquitous question arose, “Why did you decide to come to Korea?” I’ve been getting this question a lot from various people. Here’s the stock answer: At my school, I studied East Asian history, but my school was too small for me to study Korean history. Thus, I only studied Japanese and Chinese history. I feel this is unfortunate since there are three major players in East Asian history, not two, and if I want to continue studies in this field, I should know about that third player, Korea.
The real answer is more something along the lines of, “Well, my Middle Eastern history professor wanted me to apply for The Program, and I picked the country and research topic (Entertaining Teacher from America) that would require the least amount of work on my part. I accepted the opportunity when it came because who wouldn’t accept a one-year paid vacation to a country half-way around the world?
Not that it’s been a vacation, nor that I thought it would be. Far from it, in fact, but I can’t help but feel a little guilty about my less than pure motivations. Like I’m using these people somehow. Sure they’re getting something out of it, but from what little I know about Korean history, about how they’ve been stomped on by every major power in the world, and used, and torn, stitched… Well, I just feel like I’m a part of that now. A little. When I realize how many people come here to teach just because Korea will pay them a lot of money to come and how many of those people do not bother to learn about Korea or Koreans or Korean and how many of those people do not g.a.r.a. what happens in this country…
For instance, in our last night in Chuncheon, my friends were at a bar. (For those of you who know Korean, you’ll appreciate this. I just typed “our friends” and had to correct it. Man, I’m in it deep now!) They met some Canadians also teaching English in Korea through another program. The other program doesn’t really appreciate our program for some reason, perhaps because it’s U.S. government sponsored (or perhaps because we actually teach by ourselves while they mostly just help out as live tape recorders). At any rate, they were getting a little pushy with my friends, so my friends asked them, “How long have you been in Korea?” A year or so. “And how much Korean do you know?” Korean? Why would we bother to learn that?
That kind of attitude? Well, it makes me feel a little guilty about my own less than pure original motivations for coming here. Luckily, it also motivates me to not become one of those people. Luckily, my original intention for coming here is going out the window, and my desire to actually learn about this unique people is growing everyday.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Weekly Letter Home
Dear family and friends,
It's that time again. This week's update is actually a bit varied in that I have a word attachment for you to peruse. That's where all the information that went on my blog this week is. I've been trying to catch up on it by doing a little bit from the past and little bit from the present as the mood strikes me, and I still have much to left to do.
I've decided to give you two sections of it in plain text however, as these are the most relevant to an "update". What you should definitely know is that I've finally signed up for TKD and will begin this week. Unfortunately, the time I scheduled it for interferes with a few prior school obligations for this week which I was not aware of ( i.e. a party with the English teachers and a school festival). Language barriers are going to kill me... So, it looks like I will have one class today and then my next class on Thursday.
For those of you who knew I was sick, I am feeling much better now. I've taken my last set of drugs, and I hope I have seen the last of this hamlet's local area virus. We shall see if that is the case.
No classes today, though I am at school to check the internet and say hello to you all. Turns out I missed both fantasy football league drafts I was supposed to partake in this weekend. Silly time difference/not having internet. I had intended to go shopping today when I am done at school, but it is raining, so I might have to postpone that. Luckily, I brought some Korean to study.
Keep me in your prayers. I begin teaching the adult classes tomorrow as well as my first real lesson set with the High School students.
Love,
Jeremy
It's that time again. This week's update is actually a bit varied in that I have a word attachment for you to peruse. That's where all the information that went on my blog this week is. I've been trying to catch up on it by doing a little bit from the past and little bit from the present as the mood strikes me, and I still have much to left to do.
I've decided to give you two sections of it in plain text however, as these are the most relevant to an "update". What you should definitely know is that I've finally signed up for TKD and will begin this week. Unfortunately, the time I scheduled it for interferes with a few prior school obligations for this week which I was not aware of ( i.e. a party with the English teachers and a school festival). Language barriers are going to kill me... So, it looks like I will have one class today and then my next class on Thursday.
For those of you who knew I was sick, I am feeling much better now. I've taken my last set of drugs, and I hope I have seen the last of this hamlet's local area virus. We shall see if that is the case.
No classes today, though I am at school to check the internet and say hello to you all. Turns out I missed both fantasy football league drafts I was supposed to partake in this weekend. Silly time difference/not having internet. I had intended to go shopping today when I am done at school, but it is raining, so I might have to postpone that. Luckily, I brought some Korean to study.
Keep me in your prayers. I begin teaching the adult classes tomorrow as well as my first real lesson set with the High School students.
Love,
Jeremy
My Host Family
The time has finally arrived for me to give you a detailed description about who my host family is, what they do, and what on Earth I have to do with them. I’ve been holding off on this both because of a lack of time, but also because of a lack of knowledge of a few key details (e.g. their family name).
Firstly, as their name implies, they are a family and they are hosting me for the duration of my stay, provided we don’t run into some major potholes down the road. They are Christians and fairly active in their church. They seem to own some land in the hamlet, as we daily have fresh sweet corn to boil.
There is a father, a mother, an elder sister at what used to be called a normal school in the United States (i.e. a school for training teachers), a younger sister in Middle School, and a baby brother, perhaps in his first years of schooling if he goes to school at all.
The father, W. abeoji seems to be in between jobs. [A note on names: W. abeoji is not actually my host father’s name. Rather, W. is the name of his son and abeoji is the Korean word for father. It seems that in familial relations, the parent’s are referred to in relation to the eldest son. Thus, when I talk about W. omeoni (웅진 어머니) below, I am essentially writing “W.’s Mom”.] At one time, he was a florist, at another a tow truck driver, and now he sits at home and studies all day for an exam to become some sort of government official that monitors farming or helps farmers. I’m not exactly clear on what this is, but when I find out, I will let you know. He always has a smile on his face, though, especially when we try to communicate while we are both home alone. This happens often because of the situation the rest of the family is in.
The mother, W. omeoni, runs a beauty/movie rental shop. This keeps her out of the house most of the day from what I can tell, thus W. abeo cooks most of my meals. I was invited to come along to pick W. omeo up from the store once by W. abeo. This usually happens around 9:00 pm when W. omeo closes up shop. While there, I was invited to peruse the video section, and W. omeo began quizzing me on which movies I had already seen. There were quite a few that I hadn’t seen already (mostly ones that had been released in last four years of my life, i.e. college), but she was amazed at how many I had seen. I tried, unsuccessfully, to explain to her that we had a large projection screen at home and about 400 DVDs to boot. W., from what I can tell, spends most of his day with his omeoni, though he may also be going to school during the day.
I also learned on this trip to the shop that R., the youngest sister, usually drops by around the shop around 9:00 pm also to come home from school. Like most Korean children her age, she goes to school for about twelve hours a day, taking breaks for lunch and dinner. Most of this time is spent at public school, but some is spent at a private language institute called a hagwon. This strict educational discipline doesn’t really start until Middle School for most children, as students use their secondary years to prepare for the university entrance exams which will determine much of the rest of their futures.
Thus, I usually do not see the family until late at night, at which point they eat dinner while I watch, having already had mine around 6:00 pm (though with TKD running so late, I will begin eating dinner with them). After this, we usually watch some TV and talk in Konglish about whatever occurs to us. Sometimes, I will play a game with W. using the deck of cards I gave him as a gift. About every night, in fact, I have some sort of dialogue with W. in which he tries to teach me Korean and I teach him a little English. Sometimes, this leads to troublesome remarks from him. This conversation was in the context of a discussion about a former ETA the family had hosted:
At which point, W. abeo gives a nervous chuckle, probably thinking to himself, “I hope the foreigner actually got it, because I have no idea what he just said.”
Communication can also be troublesome as I can only pick out bits and pieces of conversations. For instance, after I had gone upstairs to my room to sleep, I suddenly heard W. abeo and R. get into a heated discussion. All I could hear was the father saying, “Korean people (한국 사람)” and R. saying, “American people (미국 사람)”. What was even more troubling was that I could hear the rest of the conversation, but I couldn’t understand it. As the conversation sounded heated, I of course assumed the worse. “I’m not fitting in here. They want me out. And they hate all Americans now. Only R. can defend me. I have failed as a cultural ambassador and will be sent home in shame.” (I’m probably exaggerating my assumptions, but it’s for effect, so bear with me.)
It was with great trepidation that I descended the stairs the next morning and began eating breakfast with R. As soon as I saw an opening in the conversation, I asked R. what she and her father had talked about last night.
It must not have been important then. I’ll just drop the topic, but then…
I then explain that I think cool is more about attitude, which I translate kibun (기분). A cool man doesn’t have to be handsome, though he certainly can be, because he has, in some way, an appealing way of approaching life. A handsome man is just looks.
So, I guess all that’s to say, I’ve landed in good hands here. I mean, if their heated discussion is about what the difference is between “cool” and “handsome”, then that sounds pretty good to me. Sounds like a family with good priorities, you know? I like discussing language heatedly too!
I do wish I could see my host family more often then I do. I’d like to interact with them more so that I feel less like a boarder and more like someone going through a new experience with them. But they’ve done this before. It’s their third time in fact. To them, I’m probably a little old hat. To me however, it’s just one grand adventure after another.
Firstly, as their name implies, they are a family and they are hosting me for the duration of my stay, provided we don’t run into some major potholes down the road. They are Christians and fairly active in their church. They seem to own some land in the hamlet, as we daily have fresh sweet corn to boil.
There is a father, a mother, an elder sister at what used to be called a normal school in the United States (i.e. a school for training teachers), a younger sister in Middle School, and a baby brother, perhaps in his first years of schooling if he goes to school at all.
The father, W. abeoji seems to be in between jobs. [A note on names: W. abeoji is not actually my host father’s name. Rather, W. is the name of his son and abeoji is the Korean word for father. It seems that in familial relations, the parent’s are referred to in relation to the eldest son. Thus, when I talk about W. omeoni (웅진 어머니) below, I am essentially writing “W.’s Mom”.] At one time, he was a florist, at another a tow truck driver, and now he sits at home and studies all day for an exam to become some sort of government official that monitors farming or helps farmers. I’m not exactly clear on what this is, but when I find out, I will let you know. He always has a smile on his face, though, especially when we try to communicate while we are both home alone. This happens often because of the situation the rest of the family is in.
The mother, W. omeoni, runs a beauty/movie rental shop. This keeps her out of the house most of the day from what I can tell, thus W. abeo cooks most of my meals. I was invited to come along to pick W. omeo up from the store once by W. abeo. This usually happens around 9:00 pm when W. omeo closes up shop. While there, I was invited to peruse the video section, and W. omeo began quizzing me on which movies I had already seen. There were quite a few that I hadn’t seen already (mostly ones that had been released in last four years of my life, i.e. college), but she was amazed at how many I had seen. I tried, unsuccessfully, to explain to her that we had a large projection screen at home and about 400 DVDs to boot. W., from what I can tell, spends most of his day with his omeoni, though he may also be going to school during the day.
I also learned on this trip to the shop that R., the youngest sister, usually drops by around the shop around 9:00 pm also to come home from school. Like most Korean children her age, she goes to school for about twelve hours a day, taking breaks for lunch and dinner. Most of this time is spent at public school, but some is spent at a private language institute called a hagwon. This strict educational discipline doesn’t really start until Middle School for most children, as students use their secondary years to prepare for the university entrance exams which will determine much of the rest of their futures.
Thus, I usually do not see the family until late at night, at which point they eat dinner while I watch, having already had mine around 6:00 pm (though with TKD running so late, I will begin eating dinner with them). After this, we usually watch some TV and talk in Konglish about whatever occurs to us. Sometimes, I will play a game with W. using the deck of cards I gave him as a gift. About every night, in fact, I have some sort of dialogue with W. in which he tries to teach me Korean and I teach him a little English. Sometimes, this leads to troublesome remarks from him. This conversation was in the context of a discussion about a former ETA the family had hosted:
W.: (pointing at my face) Olgul!
Me: (surprised, and pointing where he is pointing, i.e. at myself) Ugly?!
W.: (now, smiling with glee) Nae, Olgul!
W. abeo: (noticing my confusion) Olgul. You. Jacob. Same.
Me: Jacob and I are both ugly?!
W. abeo: (trying to correct my pronunciation) Ugly? No, Olgul.
Me: Olgul?
W. abeo: (now circling his face with his chopsticks) Nae, Olgul, olgul!
Me: Oh! Olgul! Face.
At which point, W. abeo gives a nervous chuckle, probably thinking to himself, “I hope the foreigner actually got it, because I have no idea what he just said.”
Communication can also be troublesome as I can only pick out bits and pieces of conversations. For instance, after I had gone upstairs to my room to sleep, I suddenly heard W. abeo and R. get into a heated discussion. All I could hear was the father saying, “Korean people (한국 사람)” and R. saying, “American people (미국 사람)”. What was even more troubling was that I could hear the rest of the conversation, but I couldn’t understand it. As the conversation sounded heated, I of course assumed the worse. “I’m not fitting in here. They want me out. And they hate all Americans now. Only R. can defend me. I have failed as a cultural ambassador and will be sent home in shame.” (I’m probably exaggerating my assumptions, but it’s for effect, so bear with me.)
It was with great trepidation that I descended the stairs the next morning and began eating breakfast with R. As soon as I saw an opening in the conversation, I asked R. what she and her father had talked about last night.
Me: I heard W. abeo and you talking last night, but all I could understand was 미국 사람 and 한국 사람.
R.: (Concentrates hard to figure out what I’m talking about.) I don’t remember. (She then talks hurriedly to her father in Korean. He looks confused and after a while responds. She still looks confused and says) He doesn’t remember.
Me: (lauging nervously) Okay.
It must not have been important then. I’ll just drop the topic, but then…
W. abeo: Oh! (Talks hurriedly in Korean to R.)
R.: Oh! (Thinks for a bit, translating I suppose.) American man. Cool man. Handsome man.
Me: The difference between “cool” and “handsome” for American men?
R.: Yes.
Me: Oh!
I then explain that I think cool is more about attitude, which I translate kibun (기분). A cool man doesn’t have to be handsome, though he certainly can be, because he has, in some way, an appealing way of approaching life. A handsome man is just looks.
So, I guess all that’s to say, I’ve landed in good hands here. I mean, if their heated discussion is about what the difference is between “cool” and “handsome”, then that sounds pretty good to me. Sounds like a family with good priorities, you know? I like discussing language heatedly too!
I do wish I could see my host family more often then I do. I’d like to interact with them more so that I feel less like a boarder and more like someone going through a new experience with them. But they’ve done this before. It’s their third time in fact. To them, I’m probably a little old hat. To me however, it’s just one grand adventure after another.
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