In which the internet essentially tells me I'm living a Korean drama (and other musings).

I think internet quizzes are a little stupid, but today I clicked on one from Drama Fever and answered its questions.  The result was oddly accurate:

"You value memories with your loved ones and aren't afraid to build your own destiny or even to fall in love with a man in a foreign land."

This description captures my life eerily well.

Street art in Gyeongju

I do value my memories with my loved ones, near and far.  As a quintessential ENFP, nurturing relationships is of the utmost importance to me, which is why I've become a perhaps annoyingly regular presence at the Daun post office.  (Those letters can't mail themselves!).

The experience of teaching has been something like breaking in new shoes.  I chose it because I liked where it would take me.  I chose it because I thought it would suit me. (Also: money.  But that doesn't really gel with my shoe analogy so let's ignore that). And like shoes, starting out in the classroom gave me a few blisters.

Seven months later, the breaking-in process has yielded me a profession in which I feel comfortable.  I've made it my own.  I'm finding my place among my colleagues and students.  I'm having fun and pouring myself into my position as a teacher.

The real shoes I'm currently breaking-in

I'm surprised by and proud of my students, particularly those in my essay class.  I have high hopes for what we can do.  I know that a lot of waygook teachers in Korea are frustrated by being outside of and removed from the inner circle of Korean faculty.  I might still be a "guest teacher," but having my very own essay writing class is allowing me the freedom and authority to really be a teacher.

When I was a kid, I never imagined myself growing up to be a teacher.  Odd, considering both of my parents are career elementary educators.  I never even considered studying education while I was in college.  I majored in English Literature, assuming that any possible professional teaching experience in my future would be in higher education if I chose to pursue graduate school.  Teaching English as a volunteer in Romania was a welcome and fulfilling experience, but I perceived that time as one of personal growth rather than a possible career path.  (Of course, I naively believed that an intellectually stimulating, well-paying entry level position would be waiting for me soon after I graduated with my degree.  Most of us believed in Santa Claus at some point, too).

Love is messy.  And beautiful.  But definitely messy.

Even before I moved to Korea, though, the universe was drawing bits of itself together around me in the form of teachers.  Some of my closest friends from different stages in life: junior high youth group, college friends, kindred spirits I met by chance in various corners of the globe and, of course, my own former teachers and professors.  Varying ages, fields, and locations make a fascinatingly broad spectrum of teaching experiences that are fun to watch unfold over social media or to hear about personally.

My friend Nina is a brilliant English educator in Barcelona.  Last semester she suggested organizing a pen-pal exchange between our respective students, but I was too overwhelmed with the sheer quantity of students under my care to give it much thought.  With the arrival of the new year and the creative makeup of my essay class, however, I'm enthusiastic about this transcontinental writing project.

Moreover, teaching writing is fostering my own accountability to write.  My students are bright and enthusiastic and I am routinely moved by their creativity.  It's inspiring.  I believe I owe it to myself to pursue my talents.  Spring is here, my mind is waking up, and I'm excited to be alive.  To quote Joan of Arc "One life is all we have to live and we live it as we believe in living it."  If I don't pour my heart onto the paper (or computer keyboard, as it were) no one will.  After all, there really is no time like the present!

 

The Year of the Ram

At long last, spring is coming to Korea.  The air smells fresher, some tiny buds are appearing on trees, and even my drafty apartment doesn't seem to need layers of bubble wrap on the windows or frequent use of the boiler.  (Thankfully!  I've been shelling out ₩100,000 every month for heat!).

March 2nd marked the beginning of the new school year.  As expected, my schedule is completely different from last year's.  Rather than teaching only two-thirds of the student population, I now teach every student in the school.  Unlike last year, I no longer have to make every lesson from scratch because I am in charge of teaching the Speaking/Listening curriculum from the standard textbook.  Moreover, instead of teaching seven hours of after school classes each week, I now only teach a special class on Thursdays.  I was pleasantly surprised when informed that the class I'm teaching is a writing class and, after teaching it once already, I love it!

When Jun and I visited Seoul for the Lunar New Year, I went with my friends Gus and Helen to a sheep cafe.  What's a sheep cafe?  It's exactly how it sounds: a cafe with sheep.  Like a glorified petting zoo with espresso.

I have about a dozen of Daun Middle School's brightest English students on my class roster, including three surprisingly advanced first grade girls.  Since I'd only known about the existence of this class for a few days prior, I was a bit nervous before our first session.  Nerves quickly receded, though, once I began our first class by reading several Aesop's fables and discussing the definition of a moral.  The students were extremely receptive.  We watched the silent Disney short film of The Ugly Duckling; I wanted my students to be receptive to narrative without worrying about language.  Each student wrote their own version of the story we had watched on the screen.  I was excited to gauge their writing abilities and even more curious to discover the creativity we'd be working with this year.

One of my first graders, Ivy, wrote two stories: a fable about a solitary rose among tulips, and a version of The Ugly Ducking from the ambivalent and complex perspective of the mother duck.  (Keep in mind, I had no influence on these stories.  I just gave them the paper and told them to write).  To say I was impressed is an understatement.  I'm proud.

In other news, I've realized that I want to get out more; Kaela moved back to Minnesota and Soo's schedule keeps her too busy to meet regularly.  It's been seven months since I moved to Korea and the excuse of "settling in" no longer really applies to me.  (I now own a vacuum cleaner and a blender, both of which I love beyond explanation.  It's that's not settled in, I don't know what is).  At any rate, I joined a local writers group which meets every other week.  I'd forgotten how much I love to write and how much I love sharing and talking about writing with like-minded people.  Even better, Jun and I can attend the meetings together and encourage each other's writing during the week.  (I would be lying if I said I didn't need reminders to stay on task).

Maybe it's spring fever, but I feel like I'm bursting with energy and productivity.  After a long, cold winter, this feeling is incredible.  Life is good!