School Daze

I have many, many things I could write about.  I've had good intentions to blog but, seeing as I'm still without wifi in my home, I can either blog during my office hours at school or while I'm using the signal at Paris Baguette.  I'm far too busy streaming Korean Dramas at Paris Baguette to blog, so I write this entry from my desk at school.

Third Graders gathered at the entrance of Ulsan Grand Park

Two of my students sharing a bicycle

My mentor teacher and students

My mentor teacher and me

I love teaching.  I'm surprised at how quickly I've fallen in love with my new life situation; surprised, but deeply happy.  In spite of being hired as a Guest English Teacher through the EPIK program, I was apprehensive about my ability to handle teaching middle school students in a language that is not their first.  When I began teaching, I wondered whether or not the Korean English teachers even approved of my methods.  All this uncertainty changed for me, though, the day of the third grade picnic at Ulsan Grand Park.  I found myself sitting with Gloria.  Out of all of my co-teachers, I had found Gloria to be the most reserved; I had no idea what she thought of me or my teaching abilities.  At any rate, she shocked me by delivering the best compliment I could have hoped for regarding my teaching: "I think you were born to be a teacher.  Maybe you... what's the word... inherited the DNA for teaching from your teacher parents.  I know it's your first year but you seem like you have 6 or 7 years of classroom experience.  It usually takes a whole year for a foreign teacher to learn the students' level, but I think you know it already."

I was very, very touched by those words.  Gloria went on to explain that I am the third foreign teacher in her two years at 다운 Middle School.  If I feel some distance from the other teachers, it's likely because they had been close to the preceeding waygook teachers and are reluctant to open up to someone else who will most likely exit through the revolving door of foreign teachers.  Or, at least this is what she feels is the case.  While I haven't felt particularly blown off my anyone, I appreciated Gloria's sensitivity in telling me this.  And I felt exponentially more confident about my role as a teacher.

Since my school doesn't have a curriculum for me to follow, I have unlimited freedom in what I teach.  I also only need to design and write two lessons every week; I have the time and resources to devote a lot of effort into each lesson.  The lessons I've taught include: describing food, landmarks in the USA, the American Civil Rights movement, the 4th of July, sports culture in Minnesota, and a literary analysis to the lyrics of Green Day's song "Wake Me Up When September Ends."  (I used the song analysis for my "open class," a semi-annual event in which parents observe classes).  

I said I love teaching, and I do.  However, it's not always a picnic in Ulsan Grand Park with these students.  The success of a lesson largely depends upon the class dynamic.  I have engaged and forthcoming students, passive and bored students, and I have some real pains in my ass.  I've had problems with students hitting each other (it's hard to tell what's friendly from what's not... they will slap and hit but hold hands and hug the next minute), problems with students sleeping and, above all, problems with students speaking loudly in Korean while I'm speaking.  My co-teachers have helped to curb many of these problems in most classes, but I have major behavioral problems in one section of first grade and one section of third grade.  In all fondness, I sometimes privately refer to these classes as "my little demon monsters from Hell."  It's most unfortunate for the students in these classes who are distracted and interrupted by the loud, rude, and disruptive few who make both teaching and learning very difficult.  I have one third grader who I can't even refer by name because he never brings his English nametag to class.  He sits right next to my desk and is apparently immune to my frequent threatening looks because he shamelessly blurts out (what I assume to be) snarky comments in Korean while I am teaching.  After several warnings last week, I sent him out into the hallway for part of class.  Yesterday he was expelled to the hallway again and, after his return, took a lengthy nap on his desk (along with his entire section of the classroom).  He's certainly caused me headaches as a teacher and yet...

My most notorious trouble-maker takes a nap alongside several of his classmates.

The class leader poses for the camera as I snap a picture of one student using his friend's back as a pillow. The paper is falling off his face in this picture, but just a minute before he was using the reading assignment I handed out to shield his eyes from the light as he slept. Resourceful.

...I can't bring myself to dislike him.  That goes for all of my trouble-makers.  I've always had a soft spot for children with behavioral or emotional problems.  And I've noticed that my colleagues are the same way with the notorious students.  We might yell at them or send them into the hallway to hold a chair while kneeling or make them do squats in the back of the classroom (for the record, I've only ever sent students to the hallway; I haven't made them to any physical punishment... yet) but when these students show up in the Teacher's Room or see us in the cafeteria or walking in or out of the school building, they bow, say hello, and smile.  And we smile back.  It's kind of beautiful.

There have been silver linings to even the worst days in class.  Towards the end of the most appalling, frustrating class session in my admittedly short tenure here, I loudly expressed to my students that I did not leave my home and relocate 6000 miles away for that.  A few minutes after dismissal, about eight girls from the class came back with sincere, repentant eyes: "I'm sorry, Teacher!"

Most of my classes are a breeze compared to the difficult ones, and several are consistently fulfilling.  I taught my third graders about the American Civil Rights movement last week and was impressed with the maturity and respect they displayed as I gave my presentation.  After showing a video clip of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speech, I gave each student a worksheet to facilitate their own speech.  Some students were apathetic towards the activity but I noticed many making an effort to complete the worksheet.  Two students read their speeches for the class, making me very teary and proud in the process.

The first student wrote about being free from school.  I haven't been in Korea long, but the terrible pressures forced on students through the Korean school system are already evident.  Suicide among teenagers in Korea is often fueled by school-related stress. 

I have a dream that one day this nation will have freedom for students.  

I have a dream that one day students won't have to go to school.   

I have a dream that one day students don't have to test.   

I have a dream that we have a freedom.  I have a dream today.   

I have a dream that one day study doesn't needed anymore.  I have a dream today.   

I have a dream that one day we can play all day.   

This is my hope and faith.  With this faith we will be able to change everything!  

This will be the day when we change it!

The second student to share his speech wrote about the reunification of North and South Korea, a sentiment echoed often during this assignment.

I have a dream that one day this nation will be reunited.   

I have a dream that one day North Korean[s] will travel [to] South Korea.   

I have a dream that one day we can go and travel to North Korea.   

I have a dream that our children will play with North Korea's children.  I have a dream today.    

I have a dream that one day I can go to Pyongyang and eat cold noodles.  I have a dream today.  I have a dream that one day I can go to Geumgang Mountain.  

This is my hope and faith.  With this faith we will be able to [be] reunited again peacefully.   

This will be the day when we gather our hope and power.

Most other classes responded well to this activity; I had students with a dream to be married and have children, a dream to be a doctor in a developing country, a dream to study abroad.  (I even had one girl who wrote "I have a dream that one day I will lose my virginity," though I didn't make her share that with the class!)

Even a year ago, I would not have believed that I would be in a classroom, listening to a teenager read his dream for his country's unification to me and his classmates.  I couldn't have planned for my life to be where it is today, but I'm so happy that I'm here.  Class of little demon monsters and all.

In which I visit the sea, have a pointless night out, and reflect upon my place in this world.

I have loads to say about teaching and being a waygook in a Korean middle school but for the sake of keeping this blog current, I will save those thoughts for another post.

I haven't seen Soo since Chuseok because of her work schedule.  I have, however, become close with a few of my colleagues.  Three of the other teachers, (Math, Economics, and History), have reached out to me; I now have people to sit with at lunch and brush teeth with afterwards.  On Saturday, the three of them brought me to the seaside for the day. 

M and H both brought their sons along for the trip so I got some quality time with two very adorable Korean children.  (These toddlers can speak better English than I can speak Korean!).  E drove and we bonded over our shared eclectic taste in English-language music. 

When we reached the seaside, E bought everyone something to drink at a little cafe before we started our long walk to find a playground for the boys, and then to the most scenic spot on the water.

Later in the afternoon, we went out for 샤브샤브 (shabu-shabu, a heavenly food medley cooked over a boiling pot right at the table) and indulged in a  copious amount of girl talk as we ate.  Although age hierarchy is important in Korea and I am 10-15 years younger than M, H, and E, I don't at all feel judged by my age.  It's refreshing.

That evening I felt restless.  It had been a perfect day out but I didn't want to while away the evening at home in Daun-dong, especially because I had already finished the K-Drama 풀하우스 (Full House) and still don't have TV or internet access in my flat.  It was Saturday night, after all.  I decided to take a bus to Samsan-dong and hope fate would bring me somewhere interesting (or that I'd at least be able to find one of the bars Kaela mentioned to me).  Unfortunately, my whim didn't pan out the way I anticipated.  I ended up wandering the streets by UpSquare, feeling conspicuous as the only waygook in sight and feeling incredibly sorry for myself.  Then I felt guilty for being bored and unhappy which just made me more unhappy and more sorry for myself.  Quite a vicious cycle.  It was late enough in the evening to call home so I vented my sad little tale for 15¢/minute, all the while hoping something, anything would happen to bring me somewhere worth being.  (Where are the "It's-nice-to-meet-you" conversation starting guys when you actually want to have a conversation?!).

Eventually, I wound up buying orange juice and using the wifi in a cafe before calling it a night.  When I went to catch a bus back to Daun-dong, I discovered that buses stop running before midnight and I was compelled to pay for a 12,000 won taxi-ride home... *sigh*   

If I learned anything from my otherwise pointless night out, I learned that I am very much still finding my place in the new world I have chosen to make my home.  There will be moments of loneliness and moments of feeling clueless and existential crises when I doubt my choice to relocate my life 6000 miles away from where I was born and raised.  But what I do know in the core of my being, even in momentary unhappiness, is that I am happier and freer in Korea than I have been in years, and this knowledge makes every struggle I experience here worth experiencing. 

I woke up on Sunday feeling a little better than I had the night before.  I had a text from Kaela saying she'd be at the International Church service at noon and inviting me to come.  It's a very friendly, diverse environment and located conveniently close to my flat.  After church I went out with Kaela, Rudy, and their friend C to Mugeo-dong for food and much-needed waygook camraderie.  I haven't been able to laugh like that since EPIK orientation; I was completely healed of my melancholy spell from the previous evening. 

Spending time with both Korean and waygook friends this weekend showed me that I am not alone in Ulsan and reinforced my conviction that this is where I should be.  After all, where else in the world can I feel no shame for wearing a giant pink bow on my head? 

Chuseok and Other Delights

Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) is one of the two most important holidays for Koreans (the other being the Lunar New Year).  Because of this significance, schools are closed for three days in addition to the weekend.  So, barely a week after beginning my job, I had five days of complete freedom from work.  I had no one to answer to but myself. 

Happy Chuseok!

I welcomed the break from work, but I did feel lonely.  In spite of being very self-assured and loving to spend quality time in my own company, I am incredibly social.

I love people.

And listening to my students and colleagues discuss Chuseok plans made me a little melancholy.  Furthermore, knowing that there are many places around Korea and Asia that I want to visit, I felt like this long holiday was a wasted opportunity for travel.  I simply didn’t have enough time in advance or money or energy to do a trip now... but I didn’t want to be bored or alone, either.

Anyway, after my landlord left my flat I met Soo for dinner.  She had just begun at her new job and, I learned over our meal, now only gets one day off every week.  Because of Chuseok, she would get two days off but, unfortunately, wouldn't have time to visit her grandfather in Seoul so would remain in Ulsan.  And that's how girl's night Chuseok plans just fell into my lap.  Soo invited me to come over on Sunday for a pajama party with rice cakes and K-Dramas and girl talk.  Perfect.

The following morning (Saturday), I wanted to get out of Daun-dong so I took a bus to Samsan-dong.  Morning in Korea is evening in Minnesota so it's a good time to call home.  I stepped off the bus and was in the process of dialing my friend Deirdre (who, among other reasons for being awesome, gave birth to my godson) when a young Korean guy came up to me and said “It’s nice to meet you.”  (This is the second time a Korean guy has started a conversation with me with this line).  Anyway, he expressed an interest in speaking to me.  Since Deirdre had just answered I told the guy to write down his number, and said I’d text him...  I probably won't, though.  I am a waygook so I don’t know if he genuinely wanted to practice his English with me or if he was the kind of person I had been warned about: someone who was simply hoping to “ride the white horse,” as they say here in Korea.  (Sorry but I'm not that lonely, oppa...).

I spent most of the day in Samsan-dong and returned to Daun-dong in the evening.  I spent the remainder of Saturday leeching off the wifi at Paris Baguette and downloading Korean movies.  On Sunday, I spent much of the day reading my books.  I finished the first novel early on Sunday and was already 60 pages into Ender’s Game when Soo called and told me she’d meet me outside of my flat.  We went out for Korean barbecue at a little hole in the wall place halfway between my school and her home.  (I am really beginning to love Korean cuisine).

Soo and her family live on the 13th floor of a massive apartment complex a short walk from my school.  Her parents and brother (who had also stayed in Ulsan for Chuseok) were out when we arrived after supper so we had dibs on the TV.  Soo’s TV had a wide selection of both Korean and English-language movies, but I insisted that it was okay to watch something in Korean without English subtitles.  (I am trying to immerse myself in Korean language and culture, after all).

In Songnam-dong

In the end, we watched a typical Korean drama.  I may have been more emotionally invested had I not been so exhausted, but by the end of it I was just waiting for the credits to roll.  (The plot involved a stormy romance punctuated with fainting scenes, dramatic music, and weeping.  After what felt like a very long time, Female Lead is diagnosed with early-onset dementia, her married ex-lover reenters picture and the confused Female Lead thinks she is still with him.  Husband enters scene and beats the crap out of ex-lover.  Female Lead eventually goes to a care facility and much crying ensues.  Husband visits Female Lead in nursing home... and at the very end there’s some scene with them holding each other in a boat?).

Anyway, Soo got really into the movie and cried during all the sad parts.  Anyone who has known me long knows that I, too, get into films and cry my eyes out.  However, I think the combination of fatigue and my lack of Korean skills prevented me from investing in the characters.  Also, my sense of humor could have easily manifested as a snarky commentary of the melodramatic plot points but I held it back because, I've learned, humor is very difficult to translate.

The following day, Soo and I spent a lazy morning and afternoon around her home.  We watched another drama (this one American) which was even more difficult to take seriously than the Korean movie we'd watched the night before.  (It involved a serial killer whose only witness conveniently lost the ability to recognize faces).  Around 5:00, we finally left the apartment and caught a bus to Songnam-dong, a charming district of Ulsan I had not yet visited.

Bibimbap

After a full meal of sushi and bibimbap, Soo brought me to a beautiful park where we spent the next several hours.  The humidity surplus from monsoon season seems to have finally fled and the evening air was lovely.  The moon was also quite full and bright; my camera even managed to capture some of its beauty.

Songnam-dong has a good amount of shopping areas, too.  After leaving the park, Soo showed me around several of the shops (which were quite crowded; apparently shopping is a popular Chuseok activity) I finally bought some house slippers for my flat.  (I'll elaborate more on this later, but slippers are a necessity in Korea.  MT was shocked when came with me to my flat and I failed to immediately remove my shoes at the door).

I said goodbye to Soo when I exited the bus back in Daun-dong.  I was a little wary of my empty flat with images of the serial killer movie fresh in my mind, but thankfully the movie was so poorly executed that I didn’t feel scared in the dark.  (I mean, they called the serial killer “Tearjerk Jack.” How can I feel anything but a deep urge to mock that stupid name?).

I spent the next two days reading my novels and pretending to lesson plan at Paris Baguette (truthfully, I was downloading multiple episodes of a K-Drama that has rapidly become my new obsession).  On Wednesday evening, I lesson planned in earnest and managed to produce something cohesive and effective for my classes.  I returned to school on Thursday with the feeling that my holiday had been well-spent after all.   

Samsan-dong Weekend

My first weekend in Ulsan brought much needed respite from academic thought.

On Saturday, I met up with Kaela.  Kaela is a friend from home sweet Minnesota, and it’s only a lucky stroke of fate that we are both in Ulsan.  6000 odd miles away and we are placed in the same city.  It’s lovely.

At any rate, Kaela helped me navigate the Samsan-dong district, Ulsan’s “New Downtown.”  I had my first kimbap in Korea and I bought a few things for my pathetically underfurbished home.  Perhaps most importantly, Kaela pointed out to me the location of the H&M, which is one of the few stores here that carries clothing in my size.

In the late afternoon, I parted ways with Kaela and Rudy (her boyfriend, who joined us later on) and caught a bus towards Daun-dong.  I missed the bus stop and tacked an extra 30 minutes to my walk home, but the weather was nice so I took a few photos.

Later on, Soo and I took the bus to the Taewha-dong district and ate noodles, kimchi, and dumplings.  Soo brought me to the path alongside the Taewha river and we walked it all the way back to Daun-dong.  Even though the night was quite dark, I was happy to see so many people out and about.  Ulsan feels very alive.

On Sunday, Soo and her friend Y brought me to Samsan-dong to meet with H, another migook (American).  The four of us had a good old time eating Korean pizza (at a place called “DR PIZZZA...” I wanted to laugh out loud at that superfluous third “z”) and ice cream.  We also stopped at H&M, where I expanded my wardrobe by two dresses and one skirt.  It was hilarious having Soo and Y advise me on my outfit choices.  In Korea, cleavage is known as “glamour” and any hint of it is considered vulgar.  This particularly sucks for me, because I seem to glam it up whether I want to or not.  It’s just how I’m built.  At any rate, I tried on one dress that concealed the glamour but was rather clingy.  “Is this okay for work?” I asked, remembering what an orientation leader had said about tight clothes being acceptable in Korea.  “For middle school work?  Oh no, no, Rosa.  You know middle school boys.”  Soo and Y mimed drooling adolescents.  “Ah, okay.  Back on the rack then!”  (Pun semi-intended).

With Soo in Samsan-dong.  I'm so lucky to have such a sweet friend!

We explored other parts of the mall and I discovered that Yankee Candle is a hot commodity in Korea.  (I may ask you to send me some candles, Mom!).  Finally, we said goodbye to Y and H.  Soo and I stayed in Samsan-dong for awhile, indulging in the glory of used books and street food before going back to Daun-dong.  Visiting Samsan-dong made me realize just how little of Ulsan I have seen.  I'm definitely looking forward to exploring more!

In which (almost) everyone in Korea asks me about a boyfriend.

On my second day of work, without fail, my students asked for my age and whether or not I had a boyfriend.  I decided to take Gloria’s advice and tell them my age, but refused to share whether or not I have a boyfriend.

In Korea, after classes end, students clean the school.  I have a group of four first grade (equivalent of seventh grade in the States) boys who come into my class to sweep the floors, close windows, dispose of trash, etc.  They came in and swarmed my desk.  “Pace-book-uh?”  I had to close out of Facebook.  (Um, don’t judge me.  With hours of office work, you’d do it too).

“Teacher!  Do you have boyfriend-uh?” 
“That’s a secret.  I won’t tell you.” 

“How old are you?”
“If you clean up, I will tell you.”

They finished cleaning, I revealed my age, resumed my Facebook chat, life went on... until I realized the time.  And that I had some kind of meeting.

Teacher Gloria found me on my way to the Teachers’ Room.  Apparently, the meeting wasn’t the small gathering of the English department I expected.  I was led into a room graced by Principal and Vice Principal, as well as most of the teachers at the school.  Everyone stared as I walked into the room.  Vice Principal beckoned for me to sit next to her and offered me a rice cake.  I obligingly ate it although I was still holding the milkshake my cleaners had given to me.  I was unnerved to be so close to the two most powerful figures in the school but I did my best to be humble and polite.  I bowed whenever I made eye contact with someone for the first time.  Anyway, the place across from me was free and a male teacher sat down.  I said my humble “안녕하세요” and he returned the greeting, looking embarrassed.  VP prodded him in Korean and he answered back rapidly, still looking down.  She looked at me and said, “He say you so beauty that he nervous looking at you.”  He glanced back up at me and I smiled and said “반갑습니다” but I think the accent must have been on the wrong syllable because everyone in earshot, Principal, Vice Principal, Gloria, and even the bashful teacher, laughed.  (Apparently, misplaced syllables sounds cute in Korean).

Anyway, the meeting began and after a great deal of very official Korean business, Gloria nudged me to go to the front of the room.  I gave a respectful bow and told the room my name is Rosa, I am very happy to be in Korea, I am from Minnesota (where it is too cold), and that I hope I will teach the students well.  I also thanked everyone for welcoming me to their beautiful school, etc.  Gloria translated my little speech and I started to move back to my chair when an ajusshi [old man] in the back of the room asks that unavoidable, ubiquitous question:

“Boyfriend?”

I actually wasn’t prepared for this.  With my students, I make an X with my arms and say “That’s a secret.”  But how do I answer this question in a room with my boss and teachers with years of seniority over me in a culture heavily steeped in hierarchy?  I couldn’t fire off a snarky response (“Do you?”) the way I might be tempted to in the West.  

“Ummmmm.... I don’t know?  Maybe.  Not yet.”

There was a lot of muttering in Korean, and some of my co-teachers said, “You didn’t have to answer.”

After the meeting, Gloria asked me if it was normal to ask such a question in the United States.  “Oh, no.  Not in a professional setting.  But I understand that this is a different culture.  What should I have said, though?” 

“Its a complicated question, even for Koreans,” she told me. “If you say no, you are stupid.  If you say yes, you are damaged.”

So did I answer it right?  I wish my response could have been along the lines of “Please consult the wise words of Salt-N-Pepa in their song, ‘None of Your Business.’”  *sigh*  Well, I had a good day overall.  And it won't be the last time I'm asked that question!

More Inevitable Firsts

My first day at work went far better than expected.

Wednesday morning I walked to the school which, thanks to Soo’s directions the previous evening and a swarm of lavender uniform-clad students, I found without a problem.  I hadn’t been able to sleep well the previous night, and had even dreamt that I missed the first day.  As it turned out, I arrived at school a full hour before I was required to show up.  I was unsure of where to go so I sat on a bench on the far side of the school, pondering my new existence in Ulsan.  Will I be able to handle my job?  Will people like me?  Will I be able to give my students the love I already have ready to give them?

Eventually, I noticed a teacherly looking sort walk into the front of the school.  I followed him inside and he showed me where to store my shoes and find teaching slippers.  (He had obviously realized that I was the new waygook teacher.  Also, in Korea, no one wears street shoes at school.  Teachers essentially wear socks and sandals inside, a style I only recently mocked but have quickly come to accept as an inevitable reality).

My School

He beckoned me to follow him to the Teachers’ Room on the second floor and showed me to my desk.  Since it was still quite early, I was one of very few people in a large room full of desks.  Following what I observed as other teachers (my new colleagues!) filtered into the room, I bowed and said “안녕하세요” whenever someone made eye contact.  Not knowing my schedule and not knowing enough Korean to ask about it, I opened my personal laptop and tried to look professional and studious.  One friendly looking woman with a desk in the row behind mine smilingly presented me a cup of coffee.  I accepted it (with two hands, as is the custom) with a smile and “감사합니다” and proceeded to take a tiny sip.  Unfortunately, I hate black coffee.  Still, I didn’t want to appear ungrateful at this welcoming gesture so I swallowed enough of the bitter liquid to make a gracious impression.

Mentor Teacher eventually came into the office appearing a little flustered.  The day before, she told me that today I would meet the other teachers and say hello to a few students, but I wouldn’t begin teaching until Thursday.  “You’re ready to teach today?”  she said this as a question, which translates into “You had better be ready because you’ll be teaching today, after all.”  (Cue: Korean Surprise confetti).  Thankfully, I still had the “Meet Rosa” PowerPoint presentation I used in Romania on my personal laptop.  “Yes, of course.  I’m happy to teach today.  When is my first class?”  I learned that I wouldn’t have to teach until noon, leaving me several hours to modify and improve my PowerPoint.   

Another teacher gave me a school laptop that will be mine exclusively during my employment here in Daun-dong.  I finished setting up my computer and Mentor Teacher and an older, well-dressed woman whisked me down to the Holy of Holies, the Principal’s Office.  I am not a shy person but the prospect having the hierarchical god of the school build a first impression of me was enough to thoroughly silence my extraversion.  (This is a good thing: Being humble and reserved is a very positive trait in Korean society, particularly for those at the very bottom of the food chain). 

I entered the office with Mentor Teacher and the other woman.  The Principal, a tall, middle-aged man, stood up from his desk and smiled.  I bowed with my greeting of “안녕하세요” and presented the principal with the bag of Caribou Coffee that I bought back in Minnesota.  He thanked me and, through Mentor Teacher, said that he loves coffee.  Mentor Teacher then told me that the woman who walked down with us was the Vice Principal, so I immediately greeted her and gave her the jar of honey I brought for her.  The gifts seemed to start our meeting off on a positive note; we were asked to sit and a series of basic questions followed.  Where was I from?  Why did I want to teach in Korea?  What is my age?  (My answer generated noticeable commentary.  I could tell they were remarking that I was “so young” at 24... even though I consider my true age to be 23.  Korea just begins counting at birth so everyone from a country that waits a year to call their children “1” ages a year when they come here).  Through Mentor Teacher, the Principal and Vice Principal that they were pleased to find me to be an attractive person and that they liked me.  Also, aside from teaching English, they want me to use my experiences of traveling to teach the students that their dreams can come true.  (I like this).

After the meeting, Mentor Teacher unlocked the English room and handed me the keys.  She informed me that I could use the morning to prepare for my classes before returning to the Teachers’ Room to prepare for her own classes.  Alone at last, I welcomed the privacy and space of the classroom.  I opened the windows and doors to allow the thick summer air to circulate.  As soon as the bell rang, I had dozens of eyes peeking in the doors.  I heard whispering in Korean and some words in English.  One was repeated by several students: “Pretty!”

It’s sometimes hard for me to remember just how much I stand out here, physically, until I catch my reflection or notice the stares.  I’m surrounded by black and dyed-auburn hair that I often forget my own stark contrast to the scene around me.  It is kind of nice to have traits considered beautiful in Korea; the double eyelid and the naturally light-colored hair, neither of which have merited me much attention in the past, are considered coveted, exotic features here.  It feels good to be called pretty or to hear: “Teacher!  I like your eyes.  I love your nose!”  In spite of the compliments, though, I’m sad that the unique beauty of Korean eyes and noses and hair don't seem to be widely celebrated in Korea.     

My first class, Grade 3 Middle (which is the equivalent to American Grade 9) went better than I could expect.  Most of the boys in the class were enamored with me (several had said “Pretty!” to me as they entered the classroom) and a whole group of them sat right in front.  I also met Teacher Gloria, one of my co-teachers, who translated when necessary.  During and after my presentation, I let the students ask me questions.  The very first things they asked me were 1) my age, and 2) whether or not I had a boyfriend.   The previous day, Mentor Teacher specifically warned me against answering these two questions.  (“It’s okay to lie to them.  Don’t ever give them personal information”).  Because of this warning, I didn’t answer either question but I did answer subsequent questions.

Next, I let each student randomly choose a slip of paper with an English name printed on it.  (I carefully selected these names from sources including but not limited to: planets and constellations, the works of Shakespeare, the Brontë sisters, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, various examples of flora and fauna, and the American Girl Collection.  It’s my goal to avoid duplicate names).  I instructed the students to make stand-up name tags for their desks and invited each group of students come up to the front of the room and say, “Hello, my name is ____.  Nice to meet you.”

It was a very easy model to follow and it took up the entire class period.  After class, Teacher Gloria brought me down to lunch amidst stares and loud exclamations from students.  One boy saw me and shouted, “I love you!  I love you!” before telling Gloria: “She!  More pretty than you!”  Gloria corrected him, “You say, ‘as pretty as,’ not ‘more pretty.’”  Oh dear.  While I can’t lie about loving attention (I do love attention, believe me), I felt uncharacteristically shy and on display with such obvious and verbal scrutiny, particularly when being compared to my new colleagues.

At my school, teachers eat lunch in the cafeteria, albeit in a different section of the room than the students, and eat the school lunches.  I like Korean food so this wouldn’t usually be a problem only... the meal was noodles.  And despite years of using bamboo chopsticks at LeAnn Chin’s, I am hopeless with slippery metal chopsticks and spaghetti-like noodles.  My meager attempts to capture the noodles were in vain.  Gloria eyed my chopsticks and noodles with a look of blatant pity: “You can bring a fork if you need to, you know.”  I would have liked to eat more noodles; the bite that I did manage was delicious but my appetite was almost as compromised as my capability from nervousness.  Eventually, I moved on to the rice and kimchi, much easier targets for my chopsticks.  

I had two more classes, each with a different co-teacher, Teachers Li and Song.  Each time, when I opened up for questions, students first asked about age and boyfriend.  (At lunch, Gloria advised me to tell them my age since age is so crucial to Korean culture.  She said they might be more comfortable with me, knowing that I’m “young”).  I included pictures of my family in the PowerPoint, and girls in both afternoon classes asked about my brother David.  (“So handsome!”).  After my last class, Teacher Song told me that she won’t translate future classes “I think they understand you and if I translate, they will stop listening to you.”  Fair enough.  I like her approach.

At the end of the day, I found some honey flavored toothpaste on my desk in the Teachers’ Room.  It was a gift from some of the teachers, so I can join in their communal after lunch tooth-brushing ritual.  (From what I have observed, everyone in Korea brushes teeth after lunch.  It’s a good habit to make, and I think the community aspect is quite sweet).  By 4:30, I counted the first day experience as a success.  I think I’m going to like it here.

First Impressions of the New Great Unknown

Orientation came to an end sooner than I would have liked, and I said my share of bittersweet goodbyes in Daejeon before boarding the bus to Ulsan.  The next several hours were full of anticipation and worries.  I had only just learned that I would be teaching middle school the previous evening, so my schema of what to expect was quickly dissolving into something unrecognizable.

My mentor teacher picked me up from where the bus left us and immediately took me to get my Alien Residency Card (ARC). Unfortunately, it seemed that every other mentor teacher had the same idea, so waiting in line for an ungodly amount of time was inevitable. After we finally got to the desk, submitted the necessary paperwork, and paid the fee of 30,000 won, she took me to the mart (large department store) to buy a few things for my flat. In the end, I bought a flat iron, milk, cereal, laundry detergent, and a few dishes.

My flat is within walking distance of my school and significantly more spacious than I expected. However, moving my groceries and the entirety of my luggage up four flights of stairs proved to be difficult as the alley entrance to my flat was blocked by a huge marketplace. We had to wheel both suitcases and balance the other items in our arms through a maze of booths selling everything from live crustaceans to colorful socks. Actually, had I not been so exhausted by everything else I would have liked to check out the merchandise at a more leisurely pace. At any rate, I thanked my mentor when we reached my flat and she left to move her car (which was parked illegally next to the market).

I hope she likes me. After all, the job of babysitting the waygook falls to the English teacher with the least seniority, and it’s not optional. I know it was a pretty big hassle to pick me up and take me the places I needed to go, not to mention the fact that I will be needing more assistance as I begin the job.

I have a loft with a TV, and apparently I have DSL internet. Unfortunately, the cable is frayed around the edges so I couldn’t connect to any kind of server. For this reason, I checked out the Paris Baguette café on the next block and mooched off of the free wifi for as long as possible before my tablet died.  Eventually, I returned to my flat to do laundry and process everything that I had learned within the last 24 hours.

I am teaching at a middle school and will have about 20 hours of classes each week. I will only see each (regular) class once a week, so in other words, I am responsible for educating 500+ teenagers. In addition, my mentor teacher explained to me that my co-teachers will be present in the classroom only to keep students’ behavior in check and I will be essentially solo in teaching duties.

Well...  The lectures on co-teaching at orientation stressed that teaching duties are generally split between the KT (Korean teacher) and the GET (Guest English teacher, aka: me). If anything, I expected that I might have less authority as an educator because I am arriving in the middle of the school year and the KT has been with these students for longer than any waygook teacher. To be honest, I was relieved at this thought because I would like to get a feel for the students before having all the responsibility of their education... this isn’t the reality, though.

At orientation, one of the lecturers warned us about what she calls “The Korean Surprise.” In short, this phenomenon occurs whenever life here expects you to immediately juggle tasks you never would have expected to juggle. And yet, she explained, if you take all your fears and frustration and channel it into the image of the Korean sky sprinkling multicolored confetti over your head, it helps adjust your perspective. So, instead of throwing myself onto my bare, unmade bed and sobbing over the fact that my number of students is comprable to the number of friends I have on Facebook, I imagined that sparkly confetti. And it helped.

I didn’t want to spend all evening in my shell of a home so I went back to the Paris Baguette to use their internet and call my parents. I also needed to figure out the location of my school so I could go to work in the morning. When I bought a cheap fruit bar (to justify my usage of the wifi signal), I asked the clerk at the register if she knew the location of the middle school. The girl I asked said something in Korean and went into the back, reappearing with a cute, smiling girl who asked in English if she could help me. After pulling up a map on her phone, we got to talking and I explained that I had just moved to Ulsan to teach English. Soo, as her name turned out to be, gave me her phone number and offered to introduce me to her other migook friend over the weekend. She was so sweet and welcoming, and told me that she "very wanted" to be my friend. So, I made my first Korean friend in Ulsan on my first evening as a resident. Things were looking up already. :)

West to East: My Arrival in Korea and EPIK Orientation

I've been in South Korea for two-and-a-half weeks now, and I'm convinced that relocating my life to Asia was among the best decisions I have ever made.  Despite the storm of doubts swirling through my mind before I stepped on the plane in Los Angeles, I had enough trust in myself and in the process I began last winter to board my flight and let myself free fall into the Great Unknown.  I'm so, so happy here.

The aesthetically pleasing interior of my Thai Airways flight.  The quality of service, food, and amenities made the 12.5 hours more comfortable than I could have imagined.  If you're flying from LAX to Asia, fly Thai!

I came to Korea to teach English through EPIK, the government-run public school English program.  I might elaborate more on the hiring process in another post; at any rate, I obtained a visa that allows me to live and work in South Korea for one year under my current contract.  When I came here, I was among 300+ EPIK teachers to arrive at the Incheon International Airport for a 9-day orientation in Daejeon.  EPIK hires teachers from the USA, Canada, the UK, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa.



Classroom Management lecture



EPIK teachers

I found the orientation to be immensely helpful in preparing me for life in Korea.  In addition to lectures on classroom management, storytelling, co-teaching, making English more comprehensible, and survival Korean classes, orientation also included a field trip, a Taekwondo class, and the mandatory medical check. 

Uplifting words from medical check-up day.
That day was weird. We were instructed not to drink any water after midnight, so of course my veins were deflated for the AIDS test blood draw. The nurse finally poked the needle into my wrist and I was then shuffled the urine test, where I was given a paper dixie cup to pee in. "Um, this isn't apple juice, folks..." To complete the day's oddities, the women were instructed to strip off their clothes and don a smock before having a chest x-ray... Why? Maybe wire bras are thought to interefere with the picture?).

In a social sense, I absolutely loved orientation.  Being thrown into a new life chapter with a group of other foreigners was wonderful.  It felt like the best parts of summer camp and welcome week in college all at once.  I met so many wonderful new friends and had some unforgettable experiences during our orientation, which made leaving after 9 days a sad affair.  The vast majority of my cohort at orientation is placed in Seoul, while my placement is all the way down in Ulsan.  That being said, I have been in Ulsan for a little more than a week and I love it.  

In Daejeon during orientation.  Neon is so beautiful!

I have a lot more to say, but I will leave this post as an introduction to my new life in the Land of Morning Calm.  안냥히가사ㅣ요!