A Silly Girl's Odyssey Around Town

A few Fridays ago I came into school and I had a few things to ask Jinsook (main Co-T) before the weekend.  After an hour of empty office, a few students came in to ask me to look at their writing assignment.   Happy for the company, we talked a while.  When they got up to leave, "Nice to meet you, teacher."

"Nice to SEEEEE you.  Nice to SEE you," I corrected.  "See you this afternoon."
"No, teacher.  No class today.  School ovah."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, teacher."

JF text to main co-T: Hi, sorry to bother you! Are you coming in today?
Jinsook: I don't have classes today. My summer classes are finished. Do you need something?
JF: Well all my students say we don't have class today. Should I stay?
Jinsook: I'm so sorry! I just checked. They are right! It's up to you if you stay :)


One of the most talked about "issues with Korea", in working with Co-Ts specifically, is the ol' "oops I forgot tell you."  This story turned out well because the result was a free day off, but some do not; they feel like little paper cuts, and how teachers deal with it can make or break their time here.  

"Oops, I forgot tell you there is a trip to Daemyeong today after school."  Which turns into a 6 hour trip, complete with a karaoke mic, trivia, and prizes--obviously not the end of the world, but say you had a date.  And, three hours in a bus with a bunch of trivia and games and jokes in Korean can only be so fun.    

"Oops, I forgot tell you we are hiking today. Those shoes maybe no good."  Not to mention the dress I'm wearing?

For people who are naturally laid-back, these kinds of things can slide with no resentment, but for some teachers, this is a big source of frustration.  The co-teaching relationships are tricky--this is not something they were trained for, so it all depends on their personalities, when it comes to how much information you will get ahead of time.  Some of us get calendars immediately, with all the dates of holidays, test days, vacation days, etc.  I have yet to know when my first Open Parents' Day is, where the parents come into my class and observe.  "It probably some time in October or September."  Paper cut.   

I, some might say, am a version of Sally in "When Harry Met Sally."  Harry and Sally have this articulate conversation about high-maintenance and low-maintenance women.

Harry Burns: There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.
Sally Albright: Which one am I?
Harry Burns: You're the worst kind; you're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.
Sally Albright: I don't see that.
Harry Burns: You don't see that? Waiter, I'll begin with a house salad, but I don't want the regular dressing. I'll have the balsamic vinegar and oil, but on the side. And then the salmon with the mustard sauce, but I want the mustard sauce on the side. "On the side" is a very big thing for you.
Sally Albright: Well, I just want it the way I want it.
Harry Burns: I know; high maintenance.

Others would just say I'm kind of a control freak; which it totally true, but I'm trying like hell to cover it up so I seem like I'm low-maintenance.

Co-workers: "Let's go to lunch today.  Sang-mu."
JF: Graciously, I respond, "Absolutely.  That sounds great."  In my mind, I'm thinking I wish we would've planned this so I wouldn't have eaten 2 bowls of cereal this morning; which was 2.5 hours ago.  Now, I'm not hungry and if I say no, then on some weird American diet, or blowing them off.  Both rude and inappropriate. 
JF: "What will we have?"
Co-T: "That so cute.  You always wanta to know stuff.  Shabu shabu.  Seafoodah shabu shabu."
JF:  "Sounds amazing."  Sounds delicious--as 8 big bowls of sodium yumminess should, until you're stuffing my face with "takah more" and "try this" and I'm rolling home sweating with 90 degrees and his good friend 100% humidity.   



The only (albeit wavering) thing I have going for me here my excuse: it's not because I'm an ignorant and entitled waygook prick, it's because I'm older and experience has made me this way.  I used to be an uber-"go with the flow" kind of person (Type B).  I was justifiably voted Class Procrastinator my senior year in high school, and always had the house where people showed up unannounced all hours of everyday; and, I was always willing to "do whatever", even if I knew I had a test the next day.  Then a year after college, I went back to school for post-bach work; I actually wanted good grades, had to keep a job, "life" things to do--that's when The Move began.  I look back now and think, of course living that way was awesome; I just never got anything done.  

Graduate school fostered my straying far, far away from my Type B-land.  I found a new home, nestled neatly on the corner of Make-Plans Street and To-Do-List Avenue.  That way, I could do everything, keep everyone happy--take a full-time class load, do my research assistantship, still see my friends, make it to my little sister's birthday party an hour away, work out, and buy/cook healthy groceries; and in my spare time, plug away at all the literature my peers had read during undergrad, that I missed during Textiles I & II.  I actually had 24 usable hours if I just planned it right.  And drank enough caffeine. 

Post-grad school teaching at a for-profit, private (corporatized) college had me teaching four to five essay-based-grading courses; then there were the meetings, committees, and mentoring other teachers; not to mention they were paying me less than they were advertizing as the minimum salary for their associate's degree graduates.  The campus director's unconstructive criticisms basically ran a bull-dozer through any trips to Rejuvenation.  I soon I had a double mortgage in the Control Freak neighborhood.

I think my friends would say they were at least a little rewarded by this: it makes me a good party planner--the logisitics manager of our social lives.  I always took charge of reservations, times, venues, and planned based on the highest statistic of everyone's happiness, and the lowest chances of failure of someone being left out, unhappy, etc.  I brought it on myself, but it became too much.    

My former self and present self finally stopped arguing and sat down to a nice dinner and worked it out the best plan of evacuation--step 1: quit job.  Step 2: move to Korea.



"Oops, I forgot to tell you the principal and vice-principal want to join your class on Friday.  Need detail lesson plan by tomodow."

No matter how appropriate the request is, I have to admit, hearing it extinguishes the happiness from the last "oops" day-off.  A salty paper cut.  A whiny thing to say?  Probably; but it is difficult, truly and genuinely difficult to go back to letting anything and everything roll off your back, once you've had to start "listing", so as to make your life work properly.  For some it's a string of battles--they plan lessons that never get used, are drastically changed, or condescendingly dismissed, and swear profusely they'll never re-sign again (but do).  Some have two separate schools, a long commute, and drink until they fall asleep waiting for the subway, at the end of a long frustrating week.  And put a smile back on the next day.  It's just a paper cut after all.   

I actually believe that I'm okay with these kinds of "oops" and the world of Unplanners, but that I am just much much more attracted to making plans.  Tis true though, that Korea has been integral in my meandering back toward the person I see as the actual Me--hopefully a good mix of AB.  I think the sleep and lack of stress has opened the doors.  These days, I'm contentedly trying to just be hanging with my homies and some Hite, even if swollen in the blistering sun, on the corner of Relax and Shut the Fuck Up.   

Celebrating July 4, 2011

It's quite weird, being from America, and not celebrating Independence Day. I don't know if I should admit that it has nothing to do with celebrating our independence from Britain, but it really doesn't. I can get down with celebrating freedom, but sometimes that feels shady to me, like I'm buying into the force-fed history books. The bias ones.

Missing this holiday emphasizes missing my friends and family on the weekend I enjoy most in the year--everyone is easily excitable. Even if the weather turns out horribly, the fireworks are cancelled, and the inevitable hangover begins early, even the grumps put out a smile. At least in my experience.

But usually, the sun comes out, and water guns and sprinklers and laughter are abundant. The smell of charcoal, grilled food, and the sulfur from fireworks alone brings extra large, genuine contentment. Family and friends from all over the place have gathered and the children that were toddlers last year have grown into full-fleged water-gun sharpshooters, and can carry on conversations that make you want to quit your job to become a pre-school teacher.

And it has nothing to do with gifting. Nothing. Children are contented by love and happiness and sparklers, instead of discontented by 100 presents that didn't include "the one they really wanted." Adults are contented by a can of beer, some bean bag toss, and a burger, not stressed out by in-laws, Santa Claus, and holiday weight.

This holiday helps me to stop and appreciate the people in my life. Coming to Korea has helped me figure out who those people really are and who I want them to be of course, but it's also helped me acknowledge the freedoms I have because of those who came before me--on this day I don't have to think about the bias history books.

The Saddest Thing, Part II

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

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.

My New Grub Club

My office sits 5 of us--a math teacher (the mama), an ethics teacher (the one male), two of my co-teachers (both close to my age--one single, one is married with a 2 year old), and me.

The office is cute. Small, but good, because in the big offices, you obviously get way more teachers.

It's pretty great. We have rituals. Boombox playing either sountrack to "Miss Saigon" or "pop classics" in which Koreans have remade their versions of American adult contemporary "classics". Think Chicago. Someone always buys apples or oranges, cucumbers, and carrots, and little drinks with plenty of vitamin-C (they're always stuffing the C down my throat) and little crackers. Jin-Sook also has this magical little egg-steamer that hard-boils eggs in 8 minutes.

Since the weather turned sunny, we've been doing a weekly lunch together on the days we all have 5th period off--one where we don't go to the cafeteria. We huddle next to the windows, eat our cut fruits and veggies, then walk arm-in-arm for coffee on campus. And then Jeong-Eun helps me with my Korean homework.

Or we go off-campus, all piled into one tiny car with a baby-seat. One time, Chinese. This week we went for spaghetti. I had this amazingly light spaghetti with bulgogi and clams; there was a spicy risotto, and a soupy spaghetti they claim "cures the soju hangover." We talk over (what I call) the auto-appetizer--Korean restaurants bring food automatically, when you sit down--which at this restaurant happens to be colored marshmallows with a burner to "warm it up" and I tell them, while they listen intently, about the magic of s'mores.

It's not my Chicago Grub Club, but we are focusing on other ethnic foods. And, I am missing my Jews and the Jew-sian jokes, and of course the food, but I think I can handle our little office parties for a while.

Chopsticks and Spoons

In terms of fitting in, having spent 5 weeks in China, one thing I thought I was totally covered with was my use of chopsticks. I will be fine without forks, I'd laugh.

When I got to my first lunch (rice, fried chicken patty, kimchi, soup, and strawberries) because it included soup, of course I grabbed what was offered for utensils--chopsticks and a spoon. The next day, same thing. And the next (even when I went to E-mart to finally buy household things, the cheap packs were for 2 sets of chopsticks and 2 spoons, the expensive pack held 1 knife, 1, spoon, and 1 fork). But, soup or no soup, spoons were included. No one who tries to fit in does something uncommon, so I would take one and leave it unused. It just seemed like the odd guy out.

Finally, yesterday several teachers were eating around me began commenting to Jin-sook (main co-T). Used to this, I wait for them to stop and watched for her 1 of 2 faces: the quizzical(they have a question)look, or her extra large smile (they've paid me a nice compliment). "They say, you use chopsticks, ah veddy good. Better than us," she says smiling.

As I watched, it became clear that the chopsticks were mostly like a (well-mannered) person in the US would use a knife to aid the fork--they pushed things onto the spoon.

So, I either look like a poor-mannered migook, or the spinster who's eaten too much Chinese take-out. Of course, no one showed a snazzy prezi on that.