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.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
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.
Friday, August 24, 2007
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:
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.)
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.
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!”?
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!”?
Thursday, August 23, 2007
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!) ^^
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).
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).
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