Part of my "duties" at Chonnam is to "teach" 2 teacher training classes for the other 10 English Teachers. I use quotation marks to mark the implication of what it entails--as over the course of the semester it dwindled. In the beginning, we were watching and discussing "Waiting for Superman" twice each Thursday (not all teachers can make it at the same time), or watching the 5minute summary on BBC. It has become 1 teacher, 1 class, 40 minutes, and usually we are talking about her favorite music (complete with pictures of the Korean rock group who "played at Warped Tour" last year) or she's helping me with my Korean homework.
I need not be offended--these women work twice the hours I do, and have families--the last thing they have time for is practicing English really. And a lot of times, it leaves for a good amount of practice for the one who does come. This was one such week.
"I just came from a funeral," she said, sitting down.
"Oh no! I'm sorry, who died?"
"My university professor."
"I'm really sorry."
"He was vedy sick for three years. Something in his brain; I don't know English word. It nice though--his family came back from America for the funeral."
"Oh, there for school. Sad. Were they surprised then?"
"No. Sick for three years."
"Right, but they didn't come back until now?"
"Children married or in graduate school. No come back often. Been there probably ten years with they mother. Professor just send money."
"Really? Like, the mother didn't come back once the children were done with university?"
To help explain (albeit from Wiki):
English education
English is taught as a required subject from the third year of elementary school up to high school, including most universities, with the goal of performing well on the TEPS, TOEIC and TOEFL, which are tests of reading, listening and grammar-based English. For students who achieve high scores, there is also a speaking evaluation.
Because of large class sizes and other factors in public schools, many parents pay to send their children to private English-language schools in the afternoon or evening. Usually different private English-language schools specialize in teaching elementary school students or in middle and high school students. The most ambitious parents send their children to kindergartens that utilize English exclusively in the classroom. Many children also live abroad for anywhere from a few months to several years to learn English. Sometimes, a Korean mother and her children will move to an English-speaking country for an extended period of time to enhance the children's English ability. In these cases, the father left in Korea is known as a gireogi appa (Korean: 기러기 아빠), literally a "goose dad" who must migrate to see his family.[3]
There are more than 100,000 Korean students in the U.S. The increase of 10 percent every year helped Korea remain the top student-sending country in the U.S. for a second year, ahead of India and China. Korean students at Harvard University are the third most after Canadian and Chinese.
Due to recent curriculum changes, the education system in Korea is now placing a greater emphasis on English verbal abilities rather than grammatical skills. Universities require all first year students to take an English conversation class in their first year and some universities require students to take conversational English classes throughout the entirety of their university life.[citation needed] According to a 2003 survey conducted by the Hong Kong-based Political and Economic Risk Consultancy, despite being one of the countries in Asia that spends the most money on English-language education, South Korea ranks the lowest among 12 Asian countries in English ability.
Looking at this subjectively, it can be seen as crazy--as if splitting up the family can possibly be worth the lessons learned. Objectively, it is and isn't. Some parents of Korean students don't like the high stress of the system here (especially the amazingly high level of competition for the top few universities in the country); most just want their children to have the opportunities widened, which comes along with the U.S. stamped university degree. And of course, the English speaking abilities.
Studying abroad comes in many forms from Korea--some send their children at young ages for one or two years (US, Canada, Australia mostly); some send them for a year of high school; most are sent for university; and only sometimes does the mother go.
Is this the right thing? Who is to say? A large percentage of the time, the results culminate in the changing of the childrens' belief systems and lack of desire to ever return to Korea. Even so, many grow into very successful, prosperous adults. The cost however, can sometimes be loss of tradition and culture, depression, and even suicide, or broken families.
It's really gotten me thinking about cultural differences--the idea of "home" and sacrificing for the next generation. I don't think I know one person in the western world would see this cost as worth the wavering outcome.
"Oh no. She probably come last year one time," she says, shying away. "Maybe new boyfriend too. They had to have a four day funeral because she couldn't get on right flight."
If further interested, a few things:
http://youtu.be/RS5qQj7UrLU
http://news.ncmonline.com/news/view_article.html?article_id=1585a9d19045a34b8d1de6b0794735fb
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
The Saddest Thing
Having finished 924 students' speaking tests today, I let the students finish watching a movie and sat in the back having a nice talk with Co-Teacher #3, Kim Young-Ju, aka Big Mama--the older mother-figure in the English Department.
Lately she's been sleeping in the back of my class a lot, which is on one hand of course annoying because it's distracting to the students, whose awareness of lack of sleep is perpetual, especially the boys. Usually, I politely tell her she's more than welcome to go to the resting room for class; which she usually politely accepts with an appreciative smile and an apologetic raise of the eyebrow.
On the other hand, it's more than understandable. I have major issues with this humidity, and also fatigue; and this woman probably has twenty years on me. This is in addition to the fact that she is a homeroom teacher, which means she's in school from 7:30am until 10pm during the week, AND on Saturdays. I would be a zombie, a bitch, or crazy; probably all three. If she wants to sleep, so be it.
Today, she had come back to life. I came to the back of the room to commence on our ritual, and she smiled, shaking her head and started a conversation about how I've been seeing an acupuncturist. We talked jimjilbangs (Korean bathhouses), summer plans, and finally set on the class curriculum. I told her of my plans, and she delightedly thanked me again for giving her copies of my powerpoints and talked about how much she learns in my class too.
Then, we turned and looked at the students who were immersed in the American romantic comedy I let them watch to distract them while I gave speaking tests.
"The thing that really gets me about Americans," she says emphatically, "when I see people that really love each other, I wonder why it the culture to leave each other. Everybody always leaving. Even when they don't really want to. Leaving."
"Yeah, well that's the movies for you--they need to get back together to make money."
"No, no. Real people too. That not Korea culture."
"I suppose you're right. We do do that," I replied genuinely.
"I feel saddest, that Korea students love western culture so much that they are doing this too. This Korea generation I see do this too."
It is true--Korean students want to emulate western culture so much, they buy t-shirts with western words on them, strive for the whitest skin possible, and feel genuinely depressed when they feel far from this ideal; they've even surpassed us in the cosmetic surgery department. I guess I have found it disturbing thus far, during my time here--cosmetic ads here, whitening cremes there, and girls AND boys carrying mirrors everyday to class--but, our all too common sad and cynical ideals about relationships and love and security too?
"You're right, that is the saddest thing."
Lately she's been sleeping in the back of my class a lot, which is on one hand of course annoying because it's distracting to the students, whose awareness of lack of sleep is perpetual, especially the boys. Usually, I politely tell her she's more than welcome to go to the resting room for class; which she usually politely accepts with an appreciative smile and an apologetic raise of the eyebrow.
On the other hand, it's more than understandable. I have major issues with this humidity, and also fatigue; and this woman probably has twenty years on me. This is in addition to the fact that she is a homeroom teacher, which means she's in school from 7:30am until 10pm during the week, AND on Saturdays. I would be a zombie, a bitch, or crazy; probably all three. If she wants to sleep, so be it.
Today, she had come back to life. I came to the back of the room to commence on our ritual, and she smiled, shaking her head and started a conversation about how I've been seeing an acupuncturist. We talked jimjilbangs (Korean bathhouses), summer plans, and finally set on the class curriculum. I told her of my plans, and she delightedly thanked me again for giving her copies of my powerpoints and talked about how much she learns in my class too.
Then, we turned and looked at the students who were immersed in the American romantic comedy I let them watch to distract them while I gave speaking tests.
"The thing that really gets me about Americans," she says emphatically, "when I see people that really love each other, I wonder why it the culture to leave each other. Everybody always leaving. Even when they don't really want to. Leaving."
"Yeah, well that's the movies for you--they need to get back together to make money."
"No, no. Real people too. That not Korea culture."
"I suppose you're right. We do do that," I replied genuinely.
"I feel saddest, that Korea students love western culture so much that they are doing this too. This Korea generation I see do this too."
It is true--Korean students want to emulate western culture so much, they buy t-shirts with western words on them, strive for the whitest skin possible, and feel genuinely depressed when they feel far from this ideal; they've even surpassed us in the cosmetic surgery department. I guess I have found it disturbing thus far, during my time here--cosmetic ads here, whitening cremes there, and girls AND boys carrying mirrors everyday to class--but, our all too common sad and cynical ideals about relationships and love and security too?
"You're right, that is the saddest thing."
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
24 Rolls of Toilet Paper
The day I got off the bus in Gwangju to spend a year (or more) living and teaching in Korea, I was greeted by a young, simple and sweet Korean woman who was to be my main co-teacher. It was her job to help me adjust and get the things I needed to settle in to living in a whole new world.
"You need stay for lunch?"
"Whatever you want to do."
"Ok, let's go then."
"Sounds good."
Before we could leave and embark on our day of tedious errands, shopping, and utility hook-ups, we were caught by the Head of the Gwangju Department of Education who requested we stay for the lunch. So we did. At this point I was a week into Korean cafeteria food and post-tiring-bus ride to boot, I wasn't amused. It being a Saturday, in addition to the baby seat I saw in the car when she brought it around, I was betting my money she wasn't either. But we made due. And polite conversation. The most notable thing being her comment about my use of chopsticks. The second, that we were born in the same year. Trying to make a comforting and therefore humorous remark, I was quick to point out that I was a few months older. First case of Silly-American-Fever, forgetting that in Korea, being older than someone determines the relationship forever.
After the ceremonial tea, we hurried off to get my bags and headed straight for the campus residence office. I felt like I was a college freshman all over again. They gave me a passcode, took my fingerprint, and gave me the keys to my new home. Only, I couldn't read the directions for the ethernet, the heat, or the process for paying for them.
The last bullet on our To-Do List for the day was E-Mart, for getting all the things I needed to settle in. Think Wal-Mart on a Sunday, only with carts in which the wheels roll 360 degrees, in a culture where it is unheard of to say "excuse me." Not because they're impolite or don't bump each other. They simply don't.
Towels and sheets. A pot and pan. All that. Trying to explain how my casein allergy isn't a lactose intolerance, and how I don't like white bread as we walked the homogenous isles of bouncy white loaves, even in its severe lack of effort made my brain foggy. I threw a loaf in the cart to end the conversation.
But something malfunctioned when we got to toilet paper. Everything was in bulk--24-48 rolls, so she thew in a 24. I rounded the display 8 times looking for an 8-roll. I had never purchased a 24 pack before and something was preventing me from thinking it was ok. I had already thrown in the 3-pack of humongous bottles of shampoo and conditioner with ease.
"You really don't want to buy that?"
In my head I wanted to blow up, taking my exhaustion and frustration out on this poor woman--single people don't buy bulk; we buy as little as possible. And 24 rolls of toilet paper? That's like telling me I'm going to be here forever.
"Okay, you're right," I said politely, knowing when I got home, my inner drama-queen would still be cursing under her breath.
However, the 24 rolls of toilet paper ran out last weekend (I've been using paper towels for 2 days). I've been in Korea for 4 months. Since then, most importantly, I've slept off most of my stress. I've slept a lot (even on these firm beds). I had forgotten what that was like. Though it's not as glorious as it sounds, mostly because I'm a soft-bed sleeper. When I say the beds here are firm, I don't mean turn the knob on your sleep number mattress to 0; I mean flat board. But it's sleep nonetheless.
Paid off 2.5 credit cards too. One batting cage conquered in the same day as a luxury norebang. One serious relationship with bibimbap and ssamjang sauce. A mutual breakup with most western foods out of sheer logistical problems, but tbc later. Some great friends. Cross-country trains and buses. Live-octopus. Month 1 of Insanity (to counteract the first 2 months of non-stop eating). I'm on to congugating verbs in Korean and I can yell "shut up" at my students (which a co-teacher taught me, thank you very much). Not to mention the feat of getting a taxi driver to my treasure island of a building, without sticking my hands in his line of sight. And another published article in Jealous. Oh, and my first spring with yellow dust and nuclear showers.
I think I was right--sounds like forever to me--subjective opinion notwithstanding. Either way, sounds like Operation Clean-Up-Jen-Fong is on the right track.
Though I feel I must say, the thing that's happened in the U.S. since my departure that has me golf-clapping is this woman running for president:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZxQZMSl-o0&feature=related
Ok, that AND And Justin Bieber's new haircut.
"You need stay for lunch?"
"Whatever you want to do."
"Ok, let's go then."
"Sounds good."
Before we could leave and embark on our day of tedious errands, shopping, and utility hook-ups, we were caught by the Head of the Gwangju Department of Education who requested we stay for the lunch. So we did. At this point I was a week into Korean cafeteria food and post-tiring-bus ride to boot, I wasn't amused. It being a Saturday, in addition to the baby seat I saw in the car when she brought it around, I was betting my money she wasn't either. But we made due. And polite conversation. The most notable thing being her comment about my use of chopsticks. The second, that we were born in the same year. Trying to make a comforting and therefore humorous remark, I was quick to point out that I was a few months older. First case of Silly-American-Fever, forgetting that in Korea, being older than someone determines the relationship forever.
After the ceremonial tea, we hurried off to get my bags and headed straight for the campus residence office. I felt like I was a college freshman all over again. They gave me a passcode, took my fingerprint, and gave me the keys to my new home. Only, I couldn't read the directions for the ethernet, the heat, or the process for paying for them.
The last bullet on our To-Do List for the day was E-Mart, for getting all the things I needed to settle in. Think Wal-Mart on a Sunday, only with carts in which the wheels roll 360 degrees, in a culture where it is unheard of to say "excuse me." Not because they're impolite or don't bump each other. They simply don't.
Towels and sheets. A pot and pan. All that. Trying to explain how my casein allergy isn't a lactose intolerance, and how I don't like white bread as we walked the homogenous isles of bouncy white loaves, even in its severe lack of effort made my brain foggy. I threw a loaf in the cart to end the conversation.
But something malfunctioned when we got to toilet paper. Everything was in bulk--24-48 rolls, so she thew in a 24. I rounded the display 8 times looking for an 8-roll. I had never purchased a 24 pack before and something was preventing me from thinking it was ok. I had already thrown in the 3-pack of humongous bottles of shampoo and conditioner with ease.
"You really don't want to buy that?"
In my head I wanted to blow up, taking my exhaustion and frustration out on this poor woman--single people don't buy bulk; we buy as little as possible. And 24 rolls of toilet paper? That's like telling me I'm going to be here forever.
"Okay, you're right," I said politely, knowing when I got home, my inner drama-queen would still be cursing under her breath.
However, the 24 rolls of toilet paper ran out last weekend (I've been using paper towels for 2 days). I've been in Korea for 4 months. Since then, most importantly, I've slept off most of my stress. I've slept a lot (even on these firm beds). I had forgotten what that was like. Though it's not as glorious as it sounds, mostly because I'm a soft-bed sleeper. When I say the beds here are firm, I don't mean turn the knob on your sleep number mattress to 0; I mean flat board. But it's sleep nonetheless.
Paid off 2.5 credit cards too. One batting cage conquered in the same day as a luxury norebang. One serious relationship with bibimbap and ssamjang sauce. A mutual breakup with most western foods out of sheer logistical problems, but tbc later. Some great friends. Cross-country trains and buses. Live-octopus. Month 1 of Insanity (to counteract the first 2 months of non-stop eating). I'm on to congugating verbs in Korean and I can yell "shut up" at my students (which a co-teacher taught me, thank you very much). Not to mention the feat of getting a taxi driver to my treasure island of a building, without sticking my hands in his line of sight. And another published article in Jealous. Oh, and my first spring with yellow dust and nuclear showers.
I think I was right--sounds like forever to me--subjective opinion notwithstanding. Either way, sounds like Operation Clean-Up-Jen-Fong is on the right track.
Though I feel I must say, the thing that's happened in the U.S. since my departure that has me golf-clapping is this woman running for president:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZxQZMSl-o0&feature=related
Ok, that AND And Justin Bieber's new haircut.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Silly Things Students Say #1
I thought I would start this as one of the major labels for the blog (so I'll do it often) because it is probably the most entertaining--"The silly things students say" is usually some form of language mis-interpretation. Although, sometimes this is not necessarily the case, it's always interesting to hear things that students wouldn't say in the U.S. Such as today:
Cleaning boys: "Hello teacher!!"
JF: "Hi! How are you guys today?"
CB in unison as if they've never said anything else: "I'm fine, thank you. And you?"
JF: "I'm tired today."
CB #1 walking up to my desk: "Hello teacher."
JF: "And how was your weekend?"
CB#1: "Huh?"
JF: "Weekend. What did you do?"
CB#1: "um...."
JF: "Study? As usual?"
CB#1: "No study. Thinking."
JF: "You were thinking all weekend?"
CB#1: "Thinking. Maddiage. You."
JF: "What?"
CB: "Meddy. You."
JF: "OH. You thought about marrying me all weekend?"
CB: "I love you teacher."
JF walking out: "Ha. Here's your candy."
Cleaning boys: "Hello teacher!!"
JF: "Hi! How are you guys today?"
CB in unison as if they've never said anything else: "I'm fine, thank you. And you?"
JF: "I'm tired today."
CB #1 walking up to my desk: "Hello teacher."
JF: "And how was your weekend?"
CB#1: "Huh?"
JF: "Weekend. What did you do?"
CB#1: "um...."
JF: "Study? As usual?"
CB#1: "No study. Thinking."
JF: "You were thinking all weekend?"
CB#1: "Thinking. Maddiage. You."
JF: "What?"
CB: "Meddy. You."
JF: "OH. You thought about marrying me all weekend?"
CB: "I love you teacher."
JF walking out: "Ha. Here's your candy."
Sunday, June 12, 2011
From Gwangju to Seoul
I live in Gwangju, which to anyone outside of Korea simply means I don't live in Seoul. I live about 3 hours southwest of Seoul, on the opposite side from Busan. It's the 5th largest city in Korea (a bit smaller than Chicago), but let's put it this way, in contrast to Seoul, we have 1 subway line and Seoul has 16. Sixteen majorly intense, yet ridiculously efficient subway lines. Oh and clean as hell.
We have one Nepalese restaurant, a pub, one "Mexican" restaurant/bar, I think 4 E-marts, and allegedly a couple Vietnamese restaurants, to Seoul's entire neighborhoods full of Western conveniences and indulgences. I think there are over 10 million people now, a cool 3 million more than NYC. But it works.
Don't get me wrong, I love Gwangju's "smallness". Much in the same way I've grown up in love with both the U.P. and Chicago, needing both the small town, and the big city. I can see the mountains from my patio, it only takes me 15 minutes to meet my friends for dinner, and I generally don't have to spend $50 to go out for the evening. However, it's always worth it in Seoul--I have had several of the best Korean meals EVER, there (food and company).
Here's a great way to explain Seoul...
http://www.cnngo.com/seoul/life/50-reasons-why-seoul-worlds-greatest-city-534720
I can't lie, my favorite thing about Gwangju is that it's simple and what I needed this year. It takes me 5.5 minutes to walk to school. Everyday I can get amazing bibimbap for $3 for lunch or on my way home. The university campus I live on is quiet and pretty, and although it's tricky for all of my friends to find my building, it's quite convenient to anything I need. Much in the way I love the U.P. Sure, we don't have all the indulgences, but I guess when I applied, that's why I strayed from Seoul. The temptation to not embrace the assimilation I suppose, especially the language.
Now that I've spent time there, and have met people I love there, am I a bit regretful I didn't choose Seoul? Sure, especially when I want goat cheese and salt and pepper chips from Costco, but not in any way that counts. Ok, it hurt a bit more when Toro y Moi was playing on a Thursday night and I couldn't get there, but for the little day trips with co-teachers, funny celebrity sighting, "family dinners", which, all encompass a more intimate community, I'm perfectly happy in my U.P. across the world. And now that I've met a neighbor who's from the U.P. too, it just made it feel even more fated.
So I've fallen in love both. Sue me.
We have one Nepalese restaurant, a pub, one "Mexican" restaurant/bar, I think 4 E-marts, and allegedly a couple Vietnamese restaurants, to Seoul's entire neighborhoods full of Western conveniences and indulgences. I think there are over 10 million people now, a cool 3 million more than NYC. But it works.
Don't get me wrong, I love Gwangju's "smallness". Much in the same way I've grown up in love with both the U.P. and Chicago, needing both the small town, and the big city. I can see the mountains from my patio, it only takes me 15 minutes to meet my friends for dinner, and I generally don't have to spend $50 to go out for the evening. However, it's always worth it in Seoul--I have had several of the best Korean meals EVER, there (food and company).
Here's a great way to explain Seoul...
http://www.cnngo.com/seoul/life/50-reasons-why-seoul-worlds-greatest-city-534720
I can't lie, my favorite thing about Gwangju is that it's simple and what I needed this year. It takes me 5.5 minutes to walk to school. Everyday I can get amazing bibimbap for $3 for lunch or on my way home. The university campus I live on is quiet and pretty, and although it's tricky for all of my friends to find my building, it's quite convenient to anything I need. Much in the way I love the U.P. Sure, we don't have all the indulgences, but I guess when I applied, that's why I strayed from Seoul. The temptation to not embrace the assimilation I suppose, especially the language.
Now that I've spent time there, and have met people I love there, am I a bit regretful I didn't choose Seoul? Sure, especially when I want goat cheese and salt and pepper chips from Costco, but not in any way that counts. Ok, it hurt a bit more when Toro y Moi was playing on a Thursday night and I couldn't get there, but for the little day trips with co-teachers, funny celebrity sighting, "family dinners", which, all encompass a more intimate community, I'm perfectly happy in my U.P. across the world. And now that I've met a neighbor who's from the U.P. too, it just made it feel even more fated.
So I've fallen in love both. Sue me.
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