A Less Cynical Reflection of Teaching in Korea

I woke up this morning at 5:30. For the last couple of months the baby seems to sleep when I go to bed, but she usually starts moving at around 5 am making sleep impossible. I always start my morning the same way: breakfast, e-mail, stretching, and then a shower. This morning I decided to see if Joe had written a blog last night. He said he wasn’t going to, but sometimes he changes his mind. As I read through his extremely cynical, borderline angry blog entry, it was evident that this semester hasn’t been the most enjoyable for him. I believe over time he will forget the negative experiences he had solely teaching 6^th grade this semester, mostly without a co-teacher, but for now they are still fresh in his mind.

Though Joe is finished teaching, I still have 2 days to go. Unlike Joe, I teach 1^st-6^th grade. This means a lot more lesson planning, but I only see each class 1 time per week. I realized at the start of this semester that I have now taught every age of student except for kindergarten. Pretty crazy considering I have only been teaching for 6 years! Technically I have been a part of three school years in Korea despite only being here two years (school years starts in March and we came here in August). I have watched my little 3^rd graders become 5^th graders, and my 4^th graders become 6^th graders.

Something happens to 6^th grade students in Korea. They go from being completely wonderful as 5^th graders to almost impossible to like (hence the tone of Joe’s blog…) I finished teaching my 6^th grade students this morning. The experience was completely underwhelming. A few students said goodbye, but for the most part there was no acknowledgement that I was leaving the school after teaching them for 2 years.

I also finished teaching my 5^th grade students today. I have a special bond with the 5^th grade students because I taught them this semester without a co-teacher. Their homeroom teachers usually stayed in the classroom to help me with classroom management and the language barrier, ensuring that their behavior was impeccable. I said goodbye to my first 3 classes of 5^th graders last Friday. They were shocked to find out that I was going home, and many students gave me letters or cards to say goodbye. The goodbyes commenced today as I said goodbye to my least favorite and favorite 5^th grade classes. I arrived today ready to teach the 5-6 class, without a doubt the worst class I have ever taught, to find that they had all written me goodbye letters or cards. After they presented them to me, their homeroom teacher told me to, “Go take a rest.” I dreaded teaching them every week, so I am glad I have a positive final memory of that class.

However, without a doubt I had one of the most special moments of my teaching career when I taught the 5-5 class today. We started with a quick warm-up reviewing the songs, chants, and vocabulary we learned this semester. My plan after that was to watch excerpts from Mr. Bean. Korean children absolutely LOVE Mr. Bean. They laugh hysterically (to be honest, I do too), so I figured it would be a great way to end the school year. About 10 minutes before the end of class, one of my students approached me and said, “Sorry teacher. We stop the movie now.” I quickly made my way to the computer and stopped the DVD. All of the students were tittering excitedly, so I knew they had something planned. As 1 student navigated the Korean version of youtube, the rest of the class started passing forward letters and cards. One even included a gift from a boy consisting of a used glue stick and 100 won coin (the equivalent of about 10 cents). Once they found the right website, the classroom erupted into 30+ Korean children singing along with a music video in Korean. In addition to serenading me, they had also choreographed a dance consisting of mainly arm movements that the entire class participated in performing. As I looked around the classroom many students busted out signs that said, “We love you,” “Good bye,” and “We’ll miss you!” Those who know me well know that I rarely cry for sentimental reasons, but I fully admit that I had tears in my eyes. As the song came to an end, I was at a loss for words (not necessarily a bad thing when no one can understand much of what you say anyway). I thanked them, told them I would miss them, and then waved goodbye as I left their classroom for the last time. I feel so blessed to have had such a special moment.

As I reflect on the experience of teaching in Korea for the last two years, there is no doubt in my mind that it has been completely transformational. Despite the daily challenges of living in a foreign country, I know that this experience has helped our marriage get off to a solid start, and I am a better (and much more relaxed) person as a result of my experiences. While I am excited for the next chapter of our life to begin, I am so happy that Joe and I got to have this experience together.

Now, for your entertainment, I typed up my favorite quotes from the different letters I received.

- Congratulations! I heard you are having a baby!

- I heard the news, I am so surprise. Teacher, I think you will have a pretty baby. Good bye teacher!

- I’m sorry to hear that you have to go back to your country. After giving birth, please come back to Mi-geum school.

- I love you and your baby cute.

- One student gave me a card that simply said “Goob” (goodbye)

- Congratulations! Because you has baby. Baby will be very cute. I’m so happy you teach we. Teacher! You lay after! You have to come in Korea. Okay?

- Chear up I will miss you

- Teacher baby very good!

- Goodbye. Where are you going?

- I wish teacher and baby will healthy and baby grow kind and handsome or pretty.

- I like you. You like me? You are very beautiful. Me too.

- How are you today? I’m fine thank you and you? Do you like banana? I’m yes I do. Good bye!

Teaching

Today was my last day being a fake elementary school teacher. Actually, I have to teach three weeks of half-day English camps starting Thursday, but for all intents and purposes, I am done-zo. All things considered, I shouldn't really complain, but that doesn't mean I won't. Let's just start off by saying I am going to miss my school lunches ten times more than any of the students.

When my wife talked me into teaching English in Korea, the actual work was an afterthought. Getting away from the stresses of life at home and the opportunity to travel were what sold me on the experience. Yeah, I knew I was going to be spending the majority of my time in a classroom, but I'd have a co-teacher to translate, and the subject matter is so simple I figured I wouldn't have to worry about prep-time.

In hindsight, the first year moved along rather smoothly. I taught 3rd and 5th graders that were eager to learn and I had a co-teacher that was a true disciplinarian. My contract started at the end of the first semester, which meant I only had half a year with these particular students before they moved on. The next year's 5th graders sucked. Individually, they are all nice kids, but together they are satan's bastards. They were even worse as 6th graders and, as luck would have it, I was informed by my Vice Principal at the end of the year that I would be teaching 6th grade exclusively. Also, they will have English three days a week instead of two. Also, I was assigned a new co-teacher who left me alone 95 percent of the time.

As I said, individually the kids are great and there are a few really good ones- maybe two or three in each class. But teaching sucks and here are five reasons why: (note: I am only talking about teaching ESL in Korea- and my opinion is probably skewed because I don't like kids as much as some others might and like I said, I taught only 6th graders who were the highest grade in the school and thought they were badasses- 3rd, 4th and even 5th are great)

1. They never stop hitting each other. And not just the boys either. Boys hit girls, girls hit girls, girls hit boys and boys hit boys. Mostly hard, open handed slaps to the back and punches to the arm. It takes all I have not to throw my weight around in the mix. In the states, if you hit a girl you would be in big trouble. KEEP YOUR GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING HANDS TO YOURSELVES!!!

2. The students never shut up. They can't even shut up during silent ball. They just don't get it. The only time I have ever had complete silence is after I have lost it and screamed at the top of my lungs. I felt a little ashamed after and went outside to cool off, but when I came back in the room you could have heard a mosquito fart. IT WAS BLISS.

3. Korea has a messed up private academy system where parents who can afford it send their kids to hours and hours of extra schooling. That along with students who have parent that speak English or have spent time abroad created a huge learning gap. I have students that can read Shakespeare (ok not really, but maybe J.K. Rowling), and students unfamiliar with the alphabet.

4. God, I hate it when they look over my shoulder at my computer screen before class starts. YES, SO MANY WORDS IN ENGRISH-EY OOOOH FASCINATING!!!

5. Even after two years, students still shit their pants when they see me walking to school or in the hallway. YES, I AM WHITE AND NO I AM NOT GOING TO EAT YOU. Unless you peer over my shoulder at the computer screen that is.

So yeah, I guess it is a good thing that today was my last day. For the sake of my health and the students' safety.

Teacher Sports Day

I started running again in the mornings this week. I put a halt to my thrice-weekly routine after experiencing a chronic, dull pain on the outside of my right knee. At first I attempted to self diagnose and treat the problem. I had it figured out that my issue stemmed from tight hamstrings and a tight iliotibial band and proceeded on with a daily regimen of rest, ice and stretching. My condition only seemed to get worse, so it was a great relief when I came across a passage in "The Complete Book of Running" that dealt with knee pain. I bought the book at an English bookstore in the foreign neighborhood of Seoul last weekend. It is normally the type of book I wouldn't buy- more like something I would look at, try and garner as much important info as possible, maybe even take notes, and then put back on the shelf. Workout books and business sales books are great for that. However, on this occasion, we were exchanging our old books for their old books- an increasingly common occurrence as we attempt to rid ourselves of unnecessary materials in preparation for our return flight to the states.

For my condition, the book recommended that I not stop running entirely, and offered that overstretching may lead to more problems. Its recovery plan called for slowly working my way back up to where I was before the injury and partaking in a new stretching routine called  "Power Yoga." I have performed this pre-run routine before in the comfort of a yoga studio, but never in public. As you can imagine, since starting the stretching ritual this week, I have elicited an even larger number of befuddled stares from the elderly women who walk around the track where I run in the mornings. However, I am happy to report that my knee pain has subsided after introducing the "Power Yoga" pre-routine and post-routine stretches.

# # # # #

My brief running hiatus coincided with my school's inaugural sports day for teachers held last week, but I wasn't about to miss out on the opportunity because of a bum knee. As with all Korean activities, the details of the sports day were planned on the fly. Initially, I had heard that teachers would have a choice to play either ping-pong, badminton, some sort of volleyball/soccer hybrid that is all the rage around town, and volleyball. I have no interest in any sport where hand usage is frowned upon, so that ruled out the soccer volleyball for me, and although my ping pong skills have improved since weekly Friday afternoon lessons, I still have trouble with the relentless returns of my Korean  competitors. Badminton is always good fun, but the athletic opportunity I relished most was volleyball. I had a picture in my head of owning the net with a splendid array of blocks and spikes, striking fear in my shorter and more feeble opponents.

Of course when the time came to hit the turf, the idea of volleyball and the other previously discussed sports was naturally scrapped in favor of kickball. At least we used a volleyball instead of the American standard red rubber.

Since there were so may teachers participating, the infield was littered with defensive players. The outfield, however, remained sparsely covered as the median player age titled somewhere north of a half century and, not coincidentally, kicked balls mostly rolled no further than the pitcher. I took advantage of this fact by blasting the volleyball out into the outfield and into the bushes. I sprinted all the way home in time for someone to translate instructions from my unimpressed principal. He awarded me a ground rule double, and when I trotted back to second, he made sure I knew that next time up, I would have to use my left foot. When I made a diving catch to end the game, he said I should have dropped it to make the game more competitive.

Afterward, I did partake in a friendly game of soccer/volleyball with the rules slightly altered. We played five on five and the nine female teachers were allowed to use their hands volleyball style to advance the ball over the tennis net, but I had to use my feet. All was well and good until it was my turn to serve. I gently kicked the ball over the net to a position an equal distance between two competitors. They crashed into each other and fell on the concrete. One teacher appeared to me to be laughing, but it quickly appeared that there was nothing funny about the situation. A tight circle of bodies quickly converged around the injured and crying player and teachers from all over the field came rushing over to join in the spectacle and offer help. She was taken to a hospital where it was later explained to me that she broke her wrist and that "the bone turned to dust." I guess that is a Korean phrase that is untranslatable. I guess I better stick to running alone in the morning from now on.

Field Day

Today was Field Day at my school. Since we have been back from Summer Vacation, an average of one class per day has been canceled due to Field Day practice.

I wrote about Field Day in a previous post back in May, but this is the bigger of the two events. Next week is Chuseok, akin to Korean Thanksgiving, and the students are eager for their week-long holiday. Field Day is a perfect release for their excitement. Here are a few highlights:

Not everyone loves Field Day. This student is faking a stomach illness.

I know this kid, and he doesn't strike me as one who would want to sit out of an athletic event. However, he is kind of a punk in class, so maybe this is a form of punishment. Anyway, he looks content to just play with caterpillars.

Here is one of the caterpillars up close.

A pop of streamers highlights the pre-event festivities.

As well as the pre-requisite (and environmentally unfriendly) releasing of the balloons.

After the national anthem, the new science teacher (and only other male teacher besides me) leads the group in some warm-up stretches. The stretches are set to music and are performed very quickly. I am not sure how everyone (that is my principal with outstretched arms) knew what to do. They must have been practicing while I have been secluded in my classroom blogging. Anyway, the stretches are hilarious and if I can get it to work, I will post some videos.

Only about a thousand more kids than the elementary school I attended...

In between races, an event company staged games for each grade. This is a tug of war game where the grade is split into two teams. When the cap gun goes off, the students run to the rope and pull.

Chaos ensues.

In addition to the games, each grade has been practicing a choreographed dance. The 5th graders used flags in theirs.

For this game, a set of mom's ran the rope underneath the jumping students and then back over the top. They had to race a team that is not pictured.

It seemed like every student's mom (and some dads) were there lined up along the side of the playground. Many brought their cameras and stationed themselves so close to the performers that it took away from the overall effect of unity.

For this relay game with one of the younger grades (maybe 1st or 2nd), the moms held onto a sheet which the student ran down over the top of, and back underneath.

Vendors were there capitalizing on the event. An ice-cream cone was 1000 wan which right now is about 85 cents.

My favorite event of the day. The parents raced to win a spectacular prize of a box of kleenex. Second place was a tube of toothpaste. Wouldn't you rather come in second? Anyway, on three separate occasions a runner tripped and face planted. Here is one such occasion.

The fifth graders blew up balloons and stuffed them into a long plastic condom bag. Then they formed a line and had to hit the bag filled with balloons to the students at the at the end of the line (not as easy as it looks). The end students then grab the condom bag and run it to the front. The team that gets there first wins.

One grade dressed in Hanbok- traditional Korean garb. You couldn't even see them perform because there were more parents than students crouching down in front of their son or daughter and snapping photos.

The 3rd graders incorporated umbrellas into their dance.

In this game, a group of parents and administrators competed by kicking this peanut looking thing filled with air down around a cone and back. The peanut was really difficult to control. One guy figured out how to just roll the thing by using the top of his foot. The guy in the picture is my principal who is already limber and ready to go after some intense stretching earlier.

Not sure why the boys have to wear the bare-midrift tops...

The 4th grade incorporated colored hoops into their dance. It's strange- everyone in Korean is an expert hula-hooper. I see them doing it in the gym all the time. I think that I can only do one or maybe two revelations, just long enough for gravity to do its thing.

For this relay, the students each had a basket. One at a time, they run and attempt to build a pyramid.

The red team barely won.

The day culminated in a huge relay race.

The problem with the race is that the track has an abrupt edge at the corners. Kids always end up slowing down by taking short choppy steps, or way too wide of a turn. Also, on more than one occasion a parent got in the way and totally wiped out a runner. Baton exchanges are also always a nightmare and inevitably lead to the trailing team catching up. When the race is over, the anchor from the losing team always cries. They forget about it though after their mom buys them an 85 cent ice-cream cone.

 

English Camp

Between the recent Mud Festival excursion and our upcoming stateside visit, I am required by my school to teach two days and two weeks of English language summer camp for third and fifth grade students. Tomorrow will be my last day of seven teaching two separate 90 minute classes of 16 third graders. Fifth grade is next week.

Sometime in the last month or so, I came to the realization that I don't mind being disciplined about the few things I am passionate about. Teaching Korean kids to say, "I like chicken" is not a passion. Don't get me wrong, the kids, especially the third graders, are quite cute, and it can be rewarding to see them improve their language skills as the year progresses, but I just don't have the desire or the energy to play the role of full time babysitter and disciplinarian. Unlike Korean middle and high school students who have grown zombified by an absurd number of daily study hours and incessant societal pressure to excel academically, the elementary students buzz around like coked out squirrels fighting over the last nut.

The first few days of camp were a nightmare with me constantly reminding the students of my three simple, yet painfully foreign rules:

Rule #1: No fighting, punching or touching (yes, I know the latter encompasses the former two, but in a culture where a boy will think nothing of swinging a balled fist into a female classmate's head, I feel they should be singled out).

Rule #2: Raise your hand if you want to speak.

Rule #3: Only speak in English.

I used a variety of tactics intended to restore order and assert my dominance. First, I tried the silent method where in the middle of teaching, I stopped talking until it became absolutely quiet. The effectiveness of this method is entirely contingent on one or a handful of well-behaved students who get the message early and relay it to the hooligans. For the most part, the silent technique worked, but every now and then, I had to break out into the "HEY! yell and death stare." The "HEY! yell and death stare" works extremely well paired with a finger point and clenched jaw.

One time, a boy flipped off another student, and I made a point of teaching everyone that "the bird" is not an acceptable gesture by taking him into the hallway and scolding him in private before shutting the door and leaving him outside. Of course, having never been subjected to that particular form of punishment, the boy pulled open the wooden sliding door and peered in on the class with befuddled eyes.

I am happy to report that my students' behavior has improved immensely each day and as a result, I have actually started to enjoy the experience. Of course, this doesn't mean that the days pass completely without incident. Today, during the ten minute morning break, I learned that a student made a number two on the floor of the boys' restroom. I was made aware of the number two by my best 3rd grade student, whose English name is Eric. Although Eric's English proficiency rivals that of any of my 5th grade students, I was not used to this type of conversation and it made for an understandably awkward exchange.

Eric: Joe, some poop in the men's bathroom.

Me: What?

Eric: Some poop.

Me: There is food in the bathroom?

Eric: No.

It was at this point that Eric surrendered on the idea of verbal explanation. He squatted down, flapped his tongue trough pursed lips and made the universal stinky gesture consisting of a waved hand in front of the nose.

Better informed, I walked outside and was immediately snapped back by the stench marinating in the jungle-like humidity of the hallway.

Being an ESL teacher does have its occasional advantages, chiefly, the opportunity to plead ignorance. In a normal situation, I may have to inform a superior of the heinous act committed on the floor of the boys' bathroom. I could have to scold all of the boys in the class and tell them how disgusting they are, all the while killing myself by holding back laughter. Worst of all, I may be forced to find supplies and clean the mess up myself. No.

"Eric, go tell the Vice Principal," I said, and turned back into the odorless save haven of the air conditioned classroom.