Freak Out

I freaked out Tuesday, third period. Homeroom #6 isn't even my worst class. Far from it. In fact, Homeroom #6 has the greatest number of students with a high level of English proficiency. Maybe that is part of the problem. Maybe they feel that the subject matter is too basic to take seriously. Maybe they thought that because my co-teacher was out of the room it would be ok to disregard the basic tenets of respect and classroom protocol ingrained through thousands of school days endured over a seven year span of formal education. Maybe they were looking ahead to an upcoming three day field trip, and just couldn't contain their excitement enough to focus.

Or maybe they are just bastards.

This is my fourth semester teaching English at an elementary school in Korea. The first three were spent exclusively with 3rd and 5th graders, which was fine. I had each 5th grade homeroom class twice a week, and each 3rd grade class once a week. The 5th graders could be buttheads at times, carrying on conversations in their native tongue and constantly hitting each other instead of paying attention, but the third graders were cute and funny and, most importantly, had an unadulterated passion for the subject matter that made it all worthwhile. As the school year wore on, the fifth graders became worse and worse, and in my limited understanding of Korean, I was able to pick up on grumblings from the other teachers as to just how bad this particular group was. Everyone was happy that they would be moving on to the sixth grade, except of course, those who would be teaching sixth grade the following year.

One of the things a foreigner must learn to accept about Korean culture is that they refuse to make plans in advance. Here it was the day before the new school year was to start and I still had no clue as to whom my co-teacher was to be, nor what grade I would be teaching. Minutes before I left for the day my Vice Principal called me into her office and informed me that I would be teaching 5th grade exclusively. It was decided that 5th and 6th grade would have English class three times a week, and another teacher would handle the 3rd graders. My new co-teacher (and as an aside, in Korea all of the teachers change grades every year and schools every 5, so at just about the time a teacher masters a grade or a subject, they move on to something entirely different) would be a young female teacher transferring in from another school. I left the brief meeting feeling a little bummed that I would no longer have the 3rd graders, but relieved that I could move forward and begin planning having finally received my assignment. Minutes later I was summoned back into the VPs office where she informed me that the school's other native English speaking teacher- the one who handled 4th and 6th graders, had refused to teach 6th grade for another year. I was asked if I wouldn't mind handling 6th grade exclusively. Being an accommodating tool, I acquiesced.

So here I was this past Tuesday with a group of students who have gotten to know me well over the last year and a month. My co-teacher, being both young and new to the school, has been given additional responsibilities undoubtedly passed on to her by more tenured co-workers which cause her to miss the majority of class time. I have been left alone with the students many times, and until this year, I have never had a problem getting the students' full attention. This year has been a struggle, and on this particular day, I reached my breaking point.

At first I called up the class leader (voted on by the other students at the beginning of the year) to quiet the class down. After all, he speaks their language, maybe he could get through to them with a special chant or something. No go. I stayed silent for a moment and then just decided to jump into the lesson, hoping my smile and enthusiasm would catch on. It didn't and then seemingly out of nowhere the rage overtook me.

"WHY CAN'T YOU BE QUIET!!!" (pause, deep breath to gather air for maximum force) "LISTEN!!!"

The class was stunned. I made eye contact with one of my best students and I could see that she was visibly frightened. I scared myself a little actually. My throat tightened and I could feel the adrenaline racing through me. I wanted to throw or break something, but thankfully held back and said something else like "What's the matter with you?" that I am sure they don't have the ability to translate.

I instructed them to put their hands on their heads (common practice I probably should have attempted first) and walked out of the classroom. I crossed paths with my co-teacher who was on her way back in. She must have heard the melee because she asked if I was ok. I said yes and told her that I just needed to get some water. I went in the teacher's room and sat, cooling off for 5-10 minutes. When I walked back in it was deathly quiet and I finished the lesson without one person speaking out of turn. It was eerie, but it felt kind of great.

I told the other teachers about the incident and they assured me that my actions were fine. The thing is, they don't really understand the rage that I felt inside of me and with the cultural barrier, I cannot adequately describe it. The next day the students left for the three day field trip which afforded me a much needed break.