26 August 2008
25 August 2008
Today officially marks my fourth month in Seoul, and I feel that the moment requires some massive insight about working as a teacher, or living abroad, or working as a teacher abroad.
Instead, however, all I can say is that I'm still forever toeing the line between quitting my job and couch-surfing my way around Asia and completely throwing myself into the quasi-teaching profession that is EFT. There are still things that I love about Korea, things that I hate, and things that I love to hate (like Korean pop music) and my itinerant spirit is forever tugging at my shirt, pleading with me to quit my job, pack my things, and trek the Himalayas for as many months as my money will sustain me, but I'll hold out for as long as I can...
Either way, life is grand.
Instead, however, all I can say is that I'm still forever toeing the line between quitting my job and couch-surfing my way around Asia and completely throwing myself into the quasi-teaching profession that is EFT. There are still things that I love about Korea, things that I hate, and things that I love to hate (like Korean pop music) and my itinerant spirit is forever tugging at my shirt, pleading with me to quit my job, pack my things, and trek the Himalayas for as many months as my money will sustain me, but I'll hold out for as long as I can...
Either way, life is grand.
12 August 2008
How strange it is to step into an airport, listening to the chatter of foreign languages, and feel the sense of relief I always get whenever I land in Detroit.
Staring at the small ajummas and ajushis, watching the high school boys laying their head on each other's shoulder, and smiling at the couples wearing matching outfits, I can't help but think how nice it feels to be home after mad adventures in Thailand.
Sadly I did little writing, even for the amount of time I spent alone with my pen and notebook, but I did do a lot of thinking. What a great experience, even though it was, at times, rather trying. Either way, I'm happy to be home, even if it's still (sometimes) a foreign land.
Today I'm celebrating Korea. I'm eating dried squid and going out to pick up sweet pumpkin porridge for dinner. I bought Jejudo orange juice and sweet aloe vera, and I've been madly drinking my sweet vinegar drinks since I got home. Tonight is off to the jimjilbang for some sauna and a dip, though it means skipping Taekwondo... They say home is where the heart is, and- for today at least- my heart's right here in Seoul.
Staring at the small ajummas and ajushis, watching the high school boys laying their head on each other's shoulder, and smiling at the couples wearing matching outfits, I can't help but think how nice it feels to be home after mad adventures in Thailand.
Sadly I did little writing, even for the amount of time I spent alone with my pen and notebook, but I did do a lot of thinking. What a great experience, even though it was, at times, rather trying. Either way, I'm happy to be home, even if it's still (sometimes) a foreign land.
Today I'm celebrating Korea. I'm eating dried squid and going out to pick up sweet pumpkin porridge for dinner. I bought Jejudo orange juice and sweet aloe vera, and I've been madly drinking my sweet vinegar drinks since I got home. Tonight is off to the jimjilbang for some sauna and a dip, though it means skipping Taekwondo... They say home is where the heart is, and- for today at least- my heart's right here in Seoul.
24 July 2008
20 July 2008
Erasing the board after my first advanced-level summer intensive English class, I ran my hand over the words 'liberal', 'conservative,' 'Rupert Murdock', 'Fox,' 'evil,' and 'propaganda'... and I realized that the rule "Never talk politics or religion at the dinner table" should be extended to the classroom (I think, in most cases, it already is... I'm just a bit slow to catch up).
I'll be lucky if any of them show up again on Monday.
The saying "Expect the best, prepare for the worst" is good advice, though I can only say that looking at it from the other side. While I was preparing for the worst in my low-level class, in which some of the students can barely utter the word 'hi' and still regularly say "Hi guys!" as they wave to me, I was too busy expecting the best for the high-levels. As it always seems to go, the low-level class went sparkling- the kids were participating, we were all smiling... it was great. Then the advanced-level boys came in. Quiet as mice, they stared at me like they hadn't been the ones to volunteer for the class, which is a terrible thing for me- whenever I get nervous I jabber on about whatever pops into my brain. And thank goodness! Politics.
What in the hell was I thinking?
I'll be lucky if any of them show up again on Monday.
The saying "Expect the best, prepare for the worst" is good advice, though I can only say that looking at it from the other side. While I was preparing for the worst in my low-level class, in which some of the students can barely utter the word 'hi' and still regularly say "Hi guys!" as they wave to me, I was too busy expecting the best for the high-levels. As it always seems to go, the low-level class went sparkling- the kids were participating, we were all smiling... it was great. Then the advanced-level boys came in. Quiet as mice, they stared at me like they hadn't been the ones to volunteer for the class, which is a terrible thing for me- whenever I get nervous I jabber on about whatever pops into my brain. And thank goodness! Politics.
What in the hell was I thinking?
11 July 2008
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" is one of those questions that I never really wanted to have to ask anyone. Both condescending and pigeonholing, it makes me feel like a grandmother, bending down to ask a pre-schooler whether he wants to be a cowboy or an astronaut. Nevertheless, I ask it, and about three other questions, in the speaking test that I give to all of my students at Bupyeong High School.
The students fidget nervously, and so do I- this is the first exam I've ever given. Tapping my pencil lightly on the list of questions I've prepared, I go through the same motions, over and over- almost one thousand times. "Pronounce your name for me, please..." I say questioningly, my gaze moving back and forth between the student's name tag and the list of names which still, after two months, look like gibberish to my stubborn Western eyes. "Neh?" The student grows more nervous- I realize, eventually, that not one of my students knows what the word 'pronounce' means.
It goes like this for hours, and then days. I smile and try to make each student comfortable, but really I'm being paid to size each one up- decide if their English will earn them an 'excellent,' 'good,' or 'unsatisfactory.' The one-word answers many of them give don't make my job any easier, as I try to keep each sputtering conversation afloat for at least one minute.
If I had my own arch-nemesis, it would likely be a personification of the Korean educational system. With a strong emphasis on rote memorization, I am beginning to believe that it systematically attempts to remove any inklings of personality from each of my students. It is the antithesis of my own liberal idea of what education should be, which is more focused on thinking critically about the how and why of each particle of information taken in. Even as I try to open my students' minds up to looking at education as more than simply what they learn in school, I am faced with row after row of silent students who would rather pour over their textbooks to memorize a new sentence structure than play a speaking game.
Listening to most of my students' answers to the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?", I discovered another latent result of the educational system; out of all of my 1,000 students, about the most creative answer I got was 'funds manager.' While in my youth, my dreams drifted from artist to architect to botanist, pragmatism is pounded into my students' brains- to the point of abandoning their dreams at the age of seventeen. When- during one of my speaking exams- a boy told me that he wanted to be a policeman but his grades weren't good enough and he would probably become a soldier, I nearly dropped my list of questions.
It's not all bad, though. I spent the last two weeks learning about my students individually, who are some of the coolest people I've ever met. I've introduced them to the likes of John Coltrane and Jurassic 5, and discussed soccer with them. I've practiced their names, over and over, and most of all, I've realized that I'm really actually kind of... a teacher.
The students fidget nervously, and so do I- this is the first exam I've ever given. Tapping my pencil lightly on the list of questions I've prepared, I go through the same motions, over and over- almost one thousand times. "Pronounce your name for me, please..." I say questioningly, my gaze moving back and forth between the student's name tag and the list of names which still, after two months, look like gibberish to my stubborn Western eyes. "Neh?" The student grows more nervous- I realize, eventually, that not one of my students knows what the word 'pronounce' means.
It goes like this for hours, and then days. I smile and try to make each student comfortable, but really I'm being paid to size each one up- decide if their English will earn them an 'excellent,' 'good,' or 'unsatisfactory.' The one-word answers many of them give don't make my job any easier, as I try to keep each sputtering conversation afloat for at least one minute.
If I had my own arch-nemesis, it would likely be a personification of the Korean educational system. With a strong emphasis on rote memorization, I am beginning to believe that it systematically attempts to remove any inklings of personality from each of my students. It is the antithesis of my own liberal idea of what education should be, which is more focused on thinking critically about the how and why of each particle of information taken in. Even as I try to open my students' minds up to looking at education as more than simply what they learn in school, I am faced with row after row of silent students who would rather pour over their textbooks to memorize a new sentence structure than play a speaking game.
Listening to most of my students' answers to the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?", I discovered another latent result of the educational system; out of all of my 1,000 students, about the most creative answer I got was 'funds manager.' While in my youth, my dreams drifted from artist to architect to botanist, pragmatism is pounded into my students' brains- to the point of abandoning their dreams at the age of seventeen. When- during one of my speaking exams- a boy told me that he wanted to be a policeman but his grades weren't good enough and he would probably become a soldier, I nearly dropped my list of questions.
It's not all bad, though. I spent the last two weeks learning about my students individually, who are some of the coolest people I've ever met. I've introduced them to the likes of John Coltrane and Jurassic 5, and discussed soccer with them. I've practiced their names, over and over, and most of all, I've realized that I'm really actually kind of... a teacher.
09 July 2008
08 July 2008
03 July 2008
Finally!
As of today, I have successfully completed administering my first exams. Over the past two weeks, I have asked all of my 1,000 students about school, sports, and what they want to be when they grow up.
I have bantered with boys who can barely answer the question 'HOW ARE YOU?' for almost one minute, and I have tried my best to put the shy, nervous students at ease. I have gained a lot of insight from this experience, I think, and would love to share it-- but maybe later. Right now I need a stiff drink.
As of today, I have successfully completed administering my first exams. Over the past two weeks, I have asked all of my 1,000 students about school, sports, and what they want to be when they grow up.
I have bantered with boys who can barely answer the question 'HOW ARE YOU?' for almost one minute, and I have tried my best to put the shy, nervous students at ease. I have gained a lot of insight from this experience, I think, and would love to share it-- but maybe later. Right now I need a stiff drink.
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