Motivating Students…Or Not

You know, I always wish I could stumble across the holy grail for making kids interested in learning English.
I think that’s what the Korean government was attempting to do by bringing over so many foreign English teachers to Korea. I think part of the reasoning might go. ‘Hey, there is a foreigner! I should learn English so I can speak to them!’
I wish it worked and to some, small extent it does. Koreans tend to lose interest in learning English after they have mastered the “Hi, how are you? I’m fine, thank you.” Some go as far as to learn ‘Nice to meet you!’ and ‘My name is Sul Gee’ but after that it becomes difficult. Koreans don’t seem to mind- hell, they are in Korea! To avoid speaking English they only have to avoid one person- me.
So, I look for lesson plans that will engage them. I am considering doing an English camp lesson on pen pal letters to foreigners. I had thought of the idea before and then Alex, one the other teachers in Gangwon-do, sent out his lesson on the topic and renewed my interest in doing it. (Just as a side note, any of my friends willing to write a short letter of response to some of my keener English Camp students in mid-July please email or get in touch with me.) I’m basing it on the overwhelming interest I received as a new English teacher here. Kids were excited to see me and they’d break out different English skills like “Where are you from?” and “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Teacher you are nice teacher.” “Teacher give me candy…please.”
Perhaps I can translate this excitement into the students actually writing something to complete strangers. It seemed that my theory was starting to be proven true.
Yesterday at lunch I was startled from my work on a power point for class by the girls that come in at lunch to use the computers.
‘Teacher! Teacher! Ashley! Come.” They were looking at me and shooing me over with the uniquely Korean way of gesturing someone over- arm extended towards the individual being beckoned, palm down and four fingers moving towards the body.
I walked over “What is it?”
“Teacher what does this mean?” the Korean girls pointed at the screen.
On the screen was a chat window open. I learned later it was some kind of English ‘Chat to a Stranger’ website.
They pointed to the dialogue
Stranger: Do you want to fuck?
You: what?
You: fuck?
You: what mean fuck?
Stranger: Fuck.
Stranger: Do you want to have sex with me.
I look at the screen. I look back at the girls.
I sigh.
I point. “This” I say with my finger on ‘want to fuck’, “means this.” I move my finger down and underline ‘have sex’.
The girls back up from me. “Oh, no, teacher. Oh no, no, no.”
“Yep, its a bad word.”
They closed the window and I made my inquires. I let them continue but monitored what they were doing and told them to close windows when I got worried. By the end of that lunch hour the girls had found that they could use the webcam during their chats with strangers. I popped up in the back of one screen and their ‘stranger’ immediately abandoned the conversation. I was a bit worried but the bell rang. The girls ran off to class.
Today at lunch they came in to chat again.
After talking to one of my students who by his own self-motivation comes in to speak with me so he can improve his English and become a hotel owner (‘That is my life dream’ he says). I wonder over to the girls who have just started to settle down to the computers after eating lunch, toothbrush still jauntily hanging out of one corner of their mouth as they type.)
Now it was all video chats. I watched what was being typed.
The main ring leader girl for this activity is actually very nice and was typing to some guy from the USA. It seemed okay and in the end her conversation ended nicely. Another group of three girls was talking to this boy who said he was from England. In the end he was alright even though there wasn’t much talking going on and more looking at the screen and going. “Cute teacher. He is handsome.”
I laughed and made a joke to the boys on the couch.
“Are you jealous? They like American boys not Korean boys.”
“I don’t care teacher. France. I go. I French.”
“Bonjour?”
“….string of mumbled non-words with slight French-Korean accent”
I went back over and sat between two monitors out of sight of the ‘stranger’s’ sight. One girl lost her conversation partner and got a new one.
“Oh My God.” she shouted I turned just in time to see a video of a couple making out on the screen.
“Oh bad, bad,” her and her friends were squealing and laughing at it.
I said “Good, good” and made the motion she did in disconnecting from the chat.
I should have stopped it there. Four minutes later another group of girls at a computer changed their ‘stranger’ and a loud squeals and hurried motions came in trying to turn off the computer.
“What happened?”
More squealing.
“What happened?”
“Oh teacher…”
They started whispering it to all their girlfriends around them. I don’t know why they whispered I couldn’t understand them anyway. I changed my tone slightly so they knew they weren’t getting in trouble.
“Hey, guys what happened?”
“ He, boy…”
“Yeah?”
“No, top. Naked. No …” she motioned to her bottom half.
Eyebrows raise.
“And touch…eggggggg” She made the motion of holding her non-existent penis.
Oh, no.
Kids started to move around. I started to get turned around in chaos. I thought that was lunch over- thank god. But it wasn’t.
WHAMMMMMM!
SQUEAL!!!!!!!
Seven girls huddled around one computer immediately dart for the exit of the room. Squealing wth fright all the way down the first flight of stairs. What now?
Most of the girls get away without answering my questions but there is one girl huddled by the computer (probably the one that shut it down abruptly and hard) abandon by her friends and looking traumatized. She doesn’t brighten when she see me.
“What was it?”
“Boy, clothes, no…” I don’t really want to think of it past there.
“Okay, go”
The boys on the back couches get wind of what just happened. They surround her computer and yank it open.
Thank god the chat has disappeared.
The boys start up another chat as I talk to the girls on the landing.
I come back to see them waving at a guy on the screen.
Stranger: Hi
You: Hi.
Stranger: Are there any girls there?
You: yes.
Stranger: Flash me some boobs.
I wave my hands and hold down the power button- it takes awhile.
You: Bye. 

The boys start making faces.  The boys hold up their middle fingers and wave them at the ‘stranger’.  The computer shuts off.

Teacher, he bad guy?”  they say.

“Yeah,” I said.  And I smile.  I’m glad they gave the guy the finger; he deserved it.  But they would have given him the finger even if he wasn’t a ‘bad guy’.

I was right- they were a little jealous.

And I laughed.

The Korean Dentist

It started with a slight throbbing in my up left back tooth that slowly crept its way up my cheek, along the outside of my eye socket and then started to pulse at my left temple giving me a very uncomfortable headache.

The toothache and head pounding would last anywhere from one minute to fifteen and then slowly fade away only to resurface again at random intervals.  At first it wasn’t painful to eat to eat at all and then I started to only eat on my right side.

I knew I was avoiding the inevitable.  I needed to see a dentist.  A Korean Dentist.

One night during a social dinner with other Native English teachers I asked about any experiences they had with going to the dentist.

“I had to have a cleaning done.  I went into the office and was ushered right in and out very quickly.  That’s a lot better than I would get back home where I would usually have to wait a long time just to get an appointment.”

“I had a cavity filled and it was alright.  I have to go back there soon to get some more cavities filled.  It was on par with what you would pay back home- maybe a little cheaper even.”

Still I was scared because I had convinced myself it was something serious because I had had cavities before, I’ve even had a root canal, and I couldn’t remember my teeth ever giving me pain like this.

After a weekend in Seoul where one minute I would be enjoying myself shuffling through shelves at WhatTheBook or watching an English performance of  ‘Stones in my Pockets’ and the next I would feel like a rude, and in pain, bastard as I made furious rustling sounds looking for Tylenol (which I had mistakenly left at the motel) I was advised strongly by my friends to see a dentist as soon as I could the throbbing in my mouth added its chorus to this idea.

So, on Monday, accompanied by one of my co-teacher’s Ms. C, I set off to the dentist.  Ms. C wasn’t taking me to her dentist but just the first one we found after taking a taxi downtown.  And that turned out to be Dr.C’s Dentist Clinic.

After climbing the stairs to the second floor I was indeed ushered in to Dr. C’s Dentist Clinic straight away.  The layout was completely different from my own dentist’s office.

At home my dentist has a small one floor building where there is a large waiting area and many different doors and dividers to shield each patient from each other.   At Dr.C’s there were three chairs in a single room.  The only room.  There was only a small half divider to separate the patients from the waiting area.  The chairs were laid out in a semi-circle with everyone’s head facing in to the center of the room.  Two or three patients were worked on at once in full view of each other.  As what happened with my visit.

Gestures, were made and I sat down in seat number 1 ( it even had a large 1 painted on its pink back).  The assistant came over and gave me a small bib and a large pink “I love you” blanket for my legs.  I don’t know why.  The dentist lowered my seat back and immediately shone the large dentist light in my eyes.  Having always worn those large stupid shades whenever I reclined at the dentist chair I was weary that I would immediately develop eye cancer upon looking at the light unprotected.

I told Dr.C, with the help of Ms.C, that I had a sore tooth.  Dr. C proceeded to turn his dental cleaning instrument around to the blunt handle and bang at my teeth with the metal end.  I fidgeted and then nearly pulled his hand away as he found my painful spot.  He nodded and ushered me over to the x-ray machine which sat in the corner of the room.

Expecting to get the lead jacket covering and have the assistance move off to a safe distance I was instead given a wedge to hold my teeth in a certain position and immediately x-rayed.  Dr. C started to stare at the 2×2 inch x-ray.  I had inflammation but it didn’t seem bad enough to be causing me pain but he wasn’t sure.  He told me what he was going to do through Ms. C.

“He said that you have the inflammation but he doesn’t think that is a problem and if he tries to fix it then he will have to cut through the tooth to give the medicine to the area.  That is a very expensive procedure.  Right now he will see if it is your filling that is causing you problems.  How long have you had it?”

” Two years, maybe more.”

“He will take it off and give you medicine and see if that works.  It is very cheap to do this.”

“Okay, but why is he taking my filling out?”

“Because maybe the dentist in Canada put it in wrong.”

“It hasn’t caused me trouble to for two years…”

“He will check.”

And then he started to pry off my filling without any numbing medicine.  I squirmed.  I pulled a face, probably more, as I was every fearful of the sharp pain coming back.  And it did.  My face and twitching hands went into over drive.  Dr.C stopped.

Ms. C translated “He can give you medication so you won’t feel anything if you want.”

” I’m really nervous that’s he’s going to hurt me- did you see how he banged that thing at my teeth…”

“But he says its better to do it without.”  She finished.

I frowned ” Okay.  I can do it.  But how long…”

Dr.C was back over me.  I was still frightful.  By the time he had finished the job the dental assistant produced a cloth and proceeded to dab at my sweating forehead.

The dentist concluded that the filling had been done incorrectly by my dentist back in Canada- I was having trouble believing him as I got out of my chair just in time to feel a rush of the same old tooth ache hit me cheek and temple.

I was sent home with a $5 bill.

But that wasn’t the end.  My tooth began to throb.  While before I was visited with more acute but shorter lived aches this time I had a consistent dull ache which spiked in pain whenever I tried to have my bottom and top teeth meet together in a chewing motion.

During one class Ms. K, my older more experienced teacher, got the kids to pay attention to my lesson by rousing their sympathies for my tooth ache.  In the other classes with Ms. C , I held a cold ice pack to my face while doing part of a lesson and still had to hold them back for being noisy.

On Thursday, which is the day I write this, Ms. K agreed to take me back to the dentist in her car.  It was festival day so our schedules were pretty flexible.  I was again immediately ushered in and this time placed in chair #2.

The dentist came over.  With Ms.K’s help I told him my tooth still hurt and I wanted what he had recommend before which was basically the Korean name for a root canal.  Ms. K told me that the whole thing would take several visits.  I was prepared.  Dr. C nodded and rolled back over to his other patient while his assistant got me ready.

She came over with a cotton swab coated with numbing fluid so I wouldn’t feel the needle that would actually numb my mouth.  She gestured for me to open my mouth and then proceeded to swab the right side of my mouth.  I put up a hand. 

“Tooth hurts here.” I said pointing to the left side of my mouth.  She blinked.  Disappeared from view for a moment and then came back with numbing fluid for the correct side.  By this time my absent minded tongue had got itself completely covered on both sides by the numbing fluid and as the doctor widened my mouth to stick a large needle into my gums I was wondering if I could shallow my completely numb tongue while the doctor worked on me.  Would he notice?

Thankfully the numbing agent wasn’t that strong.

And perhaps this is where I will end my experience at the Korean Dentist because no one really wants to hear the same old scary dentist sensations of feeling as if your whole tooth is being gutted; I distinctly heard the deep scrapping, and you unable to feel a thing.  It’s both a relief and unnerving at the same time.

As it stands the recommendation from Dr.C conveyed to me by Ms. K was “Not to eat on left side of mouth.”  I muttered “I was already doing that.”

Ms. Kim arched her eyebrows.  “Oh nothing.” I said and I walked out of the dentist with my mouth completely numb to any pain. 

 I smiled- things were looking up, no pain! 

I frowned…could I bite my tongue off and not know…

Certainly this is the end…

What’s gotten me to this point?

I don’t know how I got here but I’m absolutely terrified.

I have this sinking feeling in my chest like this is the end.

I can’t take it anymore.  I want to come back.

I feel like I’m on the edge of a ledge about to plummet into the darkness.

Wait…

A feeling?  No, that’s not it.  It’s not a ‘feeling’- its reality.  I really AM on the edge of a ledge about to plummet into the darkness and I really want to take a step back.

But I can’t, I’m already strapped in.  And the man is asking me ‘Are you ready?’ and my hands are shaking and I’m saying ‘No’…

But back to that first question:  What’s gotten me to this point?

It all started with a picture of an ostrich.

A picture of an ostrich with my friend Dani behind it pointing with both hands and a smile between 1,000 Watt and Goofy.  It turns out that Dani and her husband Bryan along with two friends had ventured to Naminara Republic, or Namisom (Nami Island).  A small cresent moon shaped river island just outside of Chuncheon, the capital of Gangwon-do and my adopted Korean hometown, put on the map for tourists because it is the setting for a famous Korean drama called Winter Sonata.

I couldn’t help coming back to the picture.  What I remember most about ostriches is the story I heard when I was in high school.  A woman who ran an ostrich farm came in to talk to us about what she was did.  She told us a story about one of her ostriches that tried to attack and kill her husband and he survived only because a strong fence stood between them.  So I looked at this picture remembered the chill down the back of my neck when the woman told her story, how I’d visualized this bird jumping on top of me and slicing me open like a velociraptor ( heck that’s probably what velociraptors turned into after millions of years of evolution).  I studied the picture.  What was I going to do?  I was going to take this bird’s picture! (Wiki article on how to survive an ostrich attack be damned! ).

I then assembled my group.  Jo, the Saffa, Guy, the guy from Australia, Sarah, the white girl I run into on the way to school, Kyle and Megan, a Cali couple from Daejeon, and finally, Joe, the Limey Bastard.

After a raid of E-Mart for picnic supplies we all set off in a bus that would take us to the town where we could catch the ferry to the island.  On the road Sarah, who had done the trip before, mentioned that there was a bungee jumping site in the area.  Some of us perked up while Joe sat a little lower in his seat with a loud protest that turned into a continuous  sound of “I’m not doing it”.

It turned out that the bungee jump facility was just beside the ferry to Nami Island and we vowed to take a look on the way back at 6:00pm.  But first to Namiseom!

The island of Nami is only sixty-six years old.  Created in 1944 as a result of the construction of the Cheongpyeong Dam.  Heavy investment helped to reforest the island and create a lovely natural tourist attraction.  And I guess because of the circumstances of its unique creation Namiseom declared its independence from South Korea as the Naminara Republic in 2006- the only impact the proclamation has made to tourists visiting Nami Island is that instead of getting a ticket for the ferry you get a ‘visa’ card (no passport needed).

And so our expedition crossed over into the young Republic of Naminara with two large E-Mart boxes filled with liquor, bread, meat, kimbab, grapes and a toffee cake.  We found a wonderful park bench and set out or wonderful little picnic.  As we were eating a member of our group across the table from me perked up- “Ostrich!” My head whipped around.  Megan was already getting her camera out.  I nodded at her and we decided to chase after the ostrich that was now moving swiftly away from us chased by a trailing bunch of Korean children.

It was now my time to face the bird-velociraptor and I approached with caution.  Though a bit smaller than I thought it was going to be its feet were still impressive.  However, the ostrich’s only form of attack when children started to touch it for too long was a mencing nip of the beak in their direction.   Megan and I positioned ourselves off to the side and started taking pictures and then- all of a sudden- the bird turned.  It rounded on my, staring me right down the camera lens, and I started madly shooting until I realized that the bird was coming right at me!  I let my camera drop and rest around my neck and side stepped out of the bird’s path.  It was a beautiful creature and I marveled at it.

The trip to Namiseom was highlighted by many interesting adventures.  I have pictures of me with the second ostrich, an extreme close up of a rascally little squirrel that got away with stealing some bread from our box, some nice portraits of our group in the setting sun including one of Joe rocking his new Jason Mraz hat, even if it does look better on me.  While Joe has video of his successful three wheeled segway ride (I on the other hand have no such thing because the words ‘successful’,  ‘three wheeled segway’ and ‘Ashley’ do not belong in a sentence together) and an embarrassing video of us all attempting to play Sarah’s drinking game Mandu, Mandu, Bollocks (or is that right?…)

Squirrel with my bread

Three wheeled segways with awesome Nazi-like helmets.

Me and the ostrich.

We wrapped up at Nami Island as the sun was setting and we took the short ferry ride back to the coast.

And then came the moment of truth.

Here was the bungee jump.

The entire group stood and looked up at the, at least, nine story structure.  And then we heard it ” 4… 3…. 2…. 1…. BUNGEE” and with our necks craned back we were able to watch a man launch himself off the edge of the structure and dive head first towards the water below and then he bounced.  Just before he was to hit the water the bungee cord caught and pulled him back up again.  He bounced again and then the cord, secured around his chest instead of around his feet, started to slacken and he was helped to a waiting boat below that took him to the shore.

We looked at each other.  And then Megan, the small, sweet, and I thought a bit timid, blond said “I’m doing it”.  And immediately went up and bought a ticket.

Twenty minutes later and a countdown ” 4…3…2…1…BUNGEE” Megan fell through the sky- to safety.  But instead of hardening my resolve to try this activity that seems to be on everyone’s bucket list it made me more frightened.  Megan’s boyfriend Kyle took the next plunged.  I was content to video record as Kyle impressively launched himself off the edge of the ledge.  I mean, I tried to convince myself, I’m wearing a skirt- surely I will have to wait until another time.

I couldn’t change pants with anyone because the only other girl my size was also wearing a skirt and then the only other person my size was Joe and certainly he had enough dignity to keep his pants on…

“Trade your skirt for my pants so that you can bungee jump?” Joe repeated.  “Sure.  Let’s do it.”

And this is how Joe, deathly afraid of heights, was able to ‘skirt’ the issue of trying to do the bungee jump himself, having sufficiently gotten enough laughs at his own expense by donning my skirt and jumping around in it for the crowd while I was strapped into my bungee jumping gear.

Joe and I giving thumbs up on having successfully changed bottoms.

Joe jumping around in my skirt.

And that’s how I got to this point- standing on the edge, shaking from head to toe, trying to breathe, pretending there wasn’t so much space between me and the ground.

“Are you ready?” asks the man.

“No.” I say.

Another breathe.  I look off into the distance with the mountains silhouetted against the quickly fading twilight.

“No…I mean, yes….no……YES!”

“5….4….3….”  ….wait…right now?  maybe I’m not so ready….can I take that ‘yes’ back, but the words weren’t coming out of my mouth….

“2….1….BUNGEE”  I’ve been told I have to launch myself off at the sound of 1.  I’m unsure if ‘launch’ is the right word for what I’ve done.  I’ve moved forward slightly, gave a little hop and… run out of room.

HOLY

CRAP

*A short chocked scream escapes my lips*

I’M FALLING!

There is no feeling like it that I’ve ever experienced.  I thought my heart was as far up my throat as it could go before I jumped.  If it hadn’t been beating so hard I would have sworn that it had fallen out of my mouth.  Perhaps it did and then when the bungee cord snapped again it bounced back in.  As the snap from second bounce loosened I was lowered into the boat.

This is an experience I could equate to my experience coming to Korea.  To a lesser extent I had the butterflies in my stomach and a heart beat that pounded in my chest as I thought about leaving everything behind that I loved about home and coming to Korea.  I could compare that waiting on the edge to the moments(No…yes…no….maybe….Yes!) of indecision I had as I filled out my papers or even as I stood staring at my brother and father who were at the airport to see me off with tears in my eyes.  I could ponder the similarities between that moment of truth on the edge when I heard the final countdown and instead of backing away from the ledge deciding to jump to the setting of my jaw as I handed over my boarding pass to the final security at the airport.  Finally,  I could say that just like my ultimate decision to come to Korea, no matter what I was giving up back home and the difficulties I know I would face on the way, that in the end I would make the same decision again and that just like Korea I might indeed sign myself up for bungee jumping one more time.

I could say those things.

But I’d be lying.

I’m never bungee jumping again!

I’d rather move to a foreign country all over again and teach pesky children English- its less daunting.

(A picture of me bungee jumping taken by Sarah)

Exam Week

Well, its exam week here South Korea and that means one of two things for teachers  in the public school system.

One- People like my friend Natasha have worked their way out of attending school at all.  On exam days you don’t teach so you are not really needed.  You are suppose to come in and work but by talking to her school, and possibly giving up a few of her sick days for the pleasure, Natasha was able to get those days off and have a one week vacation in exotic Singapore…well, its not really that exotic.  Singpore’s official language is English and the only reason for that seems to be so this tiny Asian country can become a stronger competitor in the business economy because really that’s all the country seems to be, one BIG corporation… albeit it with a lovely soaring skyline, beautiful modern architecture and a low crime rate, friendly to tourists…I really wanted to go

Or Two- You can be like my friend Dani who has to go into school and sit at her desk.  However, she is taking the time to create new lesson plans for her kids for weeks in advance so that she will have free time later down the road.  And this, because my school didn’t by my plan to take off with Natasha for one week to Singapore, was what I was planning to do.  Sit at my desk and write up, steal, and modify lesson plans all week… I mean with ocassional checks of facebook and one or two short blog entries here and there.  But.  But!  That wasn’t in the stars for me.

Instead I had to take option number three, that’s right I said there were only two options but there is actually a third!

Or Three- When I came in on Tuesday morning intent to sit down and work on lesson plans my co-teacher Ms.K had a different plan set out for me.  She told me that I was down in the schedule to monitor exams.  From 9am until 12:50 in the afternoon with only three ten minute breaks I was suppose to monitor students taking their exams.

That didn’t seem too bad.  I had seen my teachers back home ‘monitor’ exams.  They used the time to catch up on their reading.  I lifted up my Korean study book (I’m trying to learn a bit of Korean on the side) “Can I take this along with me?”

“No,” said Ms.K “you are not allowed to have any book, paper or pen with you in the classroom while monitoring.  You are with me all day today.  I will stand at the front.  You will stand at the back and we will monitor students taking their exam.”

“Ummm…okay”

So not only was I not allowed to have any reading or writing material to keep my mind amused but my role seemed to have become immediately redundant by the fact that I was one of two teachers in the room.  The uselessness of my presence in the classroom was going to become even more apparent.

The exam writing system at my school is pretty efficient.  The class is broken in half and paired with another class from a different grade doing a different test.  Class A and Class B students are alternated by row so one row Class A  one row Class B so on, thus eliminating  the most common form of cheating, taking a peek to the side at your neighbors paper and leaving only the easily detectable look over the shoulder.  Not only that but the desks are turned around so students can’t access their desks during exams to read any notes they may have written.

So, there I was in the back of the class with the pointless task of making sure students didn’t cheat.

*Blink*

Each exam is 50 minutes long

*Blink*

Ten minutes in I see the first ‘causality’.

Proceeded by ten minutes of staring off into space a student has proceeded to fold up their exam sheet and fall asleep on their desk.  Five minutes later he’s followed by another one bites the dust  and then another.  They will have either hastily marked in a few of the multiple choice questions before dozing off or will wake before their paper is taken to mark the answers without looking.  Those of the former option will rose themselves only enough for Ms. K to retrieve their paper from under their forearm at the end of class.

Now most of the students looked to be working at their exam but it did alarm me the number of students that fell asleep so early without even attempting their exam.  I was a keener in school so could never relax enough during an exam think about sleeping.  I can still remember the distinct sound my pen makes on paper as I furiously try to write up an exam question.

By the end of the class though most of the students had started to nap on their desks.  This held true for most of the exams that I have witnessed so far.  Around the 10-15 minute left mark most of the class would be snoozing at their desks.  Perhaps the Koreans had understood the fact that their students spent all night studying for their exams (I meet 2 students on a Sunday night at 10pm going up to school to study for exams.) and made their tests deliberately a bit shorter so that the kids could catch up on much needed rest before the exams.

Despite being mind-numbingly boring

( First Exam: I started to build lesson plans and ideas in my heads;

Second Exam: I rejected my lesson plan ideas as complete shit and started to think about my weekend while doing exercises in balance like standing on one foot for a certain amount of time and then another;

Third Exam: I started composing different blog entries in my head including this one I then started to alternately day dream about having super powers and how I really, really like the way an English accent says words such as  ‘blimey’ and ‘naughty’ (the insistence on calling it a ‘trolley’ is also amusing);

Fourth Exam: I was a complete and utter zombie watching the clock every minute snapping out of the trance only to  place bets with myself on which students would fall asleep first- I broke even.)

it was an interesting insight to some of the students that were in my class.  For the most part I had them pegged correctly but others I deemed to take more notice of because they seemed like keen workers.

Today’s four exams went quite the same way as the first day except that during the third period exam I entertained myself by reading over the kids shoulders during their English exam.

While the English was correct on the exam sheets the topics of some of the paragraphs used were completely ridiculous.   Such as this one that I will paraphrase.

” There has been much research done as to the effect of body shape on personality.  While some scientific tests indicate that  athletic body types tend to have more dominate, controlling personalities and that fat or obese people tend to be more warm-hearted and sharing there is also evidence to indicate that they, the fat people, can just as easily be mean and cruel.”

Ummmm…. yep- having to monitor exams has been  very insightful indeed.  Yeah!  for option number three… no, really, why couldn’t I go to Singapore?

Chopsticks and Waegokens

And so it has begun.

I left the house today late and lacking sleep like I seemed to every Monday.  However, this particular start to the week seemed to leave my feet a little bit heavier, my mood a bit more apathetic.  There was no reason for this rationally.  This was the start of exam week.  I had only two classes today and the rest of the week was taken up by students writing exams and a field trip day.

Perhaps it was waking up on the bad side of a dream that as clear as it was in leaving me with a disturbed peace of mind had vanished in every other detail as soon as I had rolled from my bed.

I walked to the cross walk.  I stood beside two little children, a boy and a girl- brother and sister, who I ran into most mornings going to school.  They were adorable and usually they shyly waved at me.  Even in the midst of my Monday blues I managed to give a smile and steal a quick glance at them.  The girl gave a loud giggle and looked at me, pointed and told her brother in a clear high pitched voice “Waegoken”  another giggle.

Yes, indeed I was a ‘foreigner’ as the word translated to in English.  She at least might talk to me.  I waved.  ‘Hello’.  Another giggle.  I made a silly inviting face.

She pointed and said ‘waegoken’ again to her brother while hiding behind him.  There were people starting to wait at the cross walk for the light to turn.  I felt a bit embarrassed and just looked down and away until I could cross the street.  These kids had been running into me off and on for two months straight at this street corner why were they choosing now to become afraid of me and pointing me out to each other?

Flash to later the same night.  Despite my classes being canceled in favor of the students being allowed to study for their exams and being informed that I could have Friday off to do what I wanted with, including traveling to see friends in other parts of the country I came out feeling a bit more haggard.

My lesson plans had not fleshed out as they were suppose to on Monday and perhaps it was the particular way in which I had been given Friday off.

“So, I’m coming with you and the second graders on the field trip on Friday”  I ask my co-teacher.

“Mr. H (the head of the English department at my school) said that you can have the day off to rest if you like.”

“Umm…okay…I wasn’t sure.  I thought Ms. K told me I was going.  That’s okay.”

“Mr. H told me to give this message on to you.  That you can have that day to rest.”

” Ummm…okay…but I don’t mind going.    Would it be rude not to go?”

“I don’t think it would be rude.  No.  I think Mr. H thinks that you will find it awkward.  The teachers going are not all English teachers and the students level is not that good so it might be awkward for them and it might be awkward for you because you don’t know Korean.”

“Ahh, alright.  Thanks for letting me know.”

As I left school I was greeted by pouring rain and no umbrella ( or usan in Korean)I had gone home and feel asleep almost immediately while reading one of the books I had brought with me from home as drool cascaded down my pillow and was a contributing factor to waking me up another two hours later.

I walked out into the night with the rain pouring down.  This time however I had my umbrella.  The walk was a bit surreal and lovely.  The rain poured straight down and I felt like I was in my own little self contained world under bright blue fabric.

I walked in like a zombie and order some Korean Chinese food in the food court of GS Mart.  When I went up to get my food my voice had caught in the back of my throat so all I did was nod as I received my tray and I went to sit down.  A moment later the same woman who had given me the tray came over with  an expression  of exasperation and a bit of helpfulness.  She held in her hand a fork.

And there it was a series of otherwise easily dismissed events: a child’s joking fright at my existence, a three day weekend because I only speak the language I’ve come here to teach, and the fact that I probably can’t handle my chopsticks, but altogether added to a crummy sleep and the general grumpy Monday feel it turned into more.

It turned into the beginning of what we’d been warned about at orientation and in our handbooks, and what the keeners of class would quote from when they wanted to seem more knowledgeable about what was going to happen to them then the rest of us.

“At the third of fourth month mark we are all going to have a deep sense of homesickness.  The newness of Korea is going to fade away and instead of being curious and excited by all the new cultural experiences you are going to get annoyed at every turn.  You will most likely hit a case of serious depression.”

And then the keener would smile.  “That’ll be fun, won’t it?” with such an sincere tone that you would think he hadn’t heard a single word he’d said.

And its feels like its hit me like a rock to my chest.  A deep, giant sigh escapes my lips and all I want to do is sink, sink and never rise again.  My meal doesn’t even look appealing anymore.  What do I think I’m doing here anyway?  Rain soaked umbrella, fluffy EPIK sweater bracing me from the cool air, haggard red eyes, the inability to even speak a few words in Korean.

At that moment I felt alone and defeated by it all.  I still had the fork.  That bloody fork.  That little piece of metal alone seemed to be sucking my will to continue on this journey to teach but more importantly to learn, learn about a new culture, learn about myself and the limits I could go to.  That stupid bloody fork.

I dropped it with a loud thunk that I’m sure even the attendant heard as she walked back with her back to me to the side of my tray.  Out of sight.  I picked up the chopsticks and ate every bite of my food with them.

I didn’t do it with a triumphant smile. I didn’t do it with a sense of glee.  My eyelids still weighted heavily and I sat alone and read my book.  But I did it.   And it turned out to be pretty damn good.

My Menu Lesson

It can be hard to find the right material for your class.

What’s an activity in their age level? What’s an activity in their skill level? What are they going to learn?  What can they do with the knowledge?  What will keep them interested?  What will keep you interested?

To begin with, I teach at a very low level high school so their skill and age level are very hard to match up sometimes.

During orientation we learned a lot about how to teach elementary and middle school children.  The mock lesson plans that were suggested can apply very well at my school even if the presentation of that material has to be altered.

For example, most of my kids don’t know any other greeting past ‘Hello, how are you?  I’m fine thank you and you?’  Bored to tears of this reply after one short week I did a lesson on greetings and every week as a review I do one of my variations including ‘What’s up?  Nothing, what’s up with you?’

So, I have to keep it low level but I also have to keep the knowledge within the spectrum of interest.  One week I did a lesson on airport dialogue that I don’t think went over well because many of my students don’t really seem to have any interest or ambition to travel outside of Korea and as one student put it through the translation of one of my Korean co-teachers:

“He says the only English you have to know is ‘Hello’ ‘Bye’ ‘Sorry’ and ‘bathroom’”

So, their desire to learn most English is deeply within the apathetic category.

My first approach to my lesson planning had been to copy the topics covered in my survival English guide and for my 4th week I thought I had hit on a topic that both me and my students would like: Food.

As a foreigner in Korea learning the language as I go I knew that food was one of the first things you were likely to pick up (that and the names for different alcohol but I try to keep the teaching of alcoholism to a minimum).  I even know someone who’s been in Korea for a while now and while he can’t read menus he knows all the names for different foods and exactly what to order.

Part of the lesson was to guess the English names of different food and the second part was to make a menu divided into the four Western menu categories: Starters, Main Course, Desserts, and Drinks.

And this entry is about sharing the good, the bad, and the ugly….

The Good:

This student was truly impressive.  He was even done early and added the extra color detail to his Zoo inspired restaurant.  Part of my fourth class for this lesson I would show of this example to all other classes to get them motivated.  That didn’t always work but at least they seemed as impressed as I was.

For this class I tried the menu’s as a group activity instead of an individual activity in the hopes that each group would at least produce one good menu.  That’s didn’t really work out and I scrapped the idea.  In this group one boy did all the work and I was really impressed with the fact that not only did he pick a theme but tried to explain it and gave his restaurant a number.

This is by one of the two girls who visits me quite frequently during lunch time.   Hwan Song wants to be an artist her friend U Bin wants to be a hairdresser and is taking courses for it.  During lunch U Bin practices simple Korean sentences with me like “I like banana milk”

This boy started to make me a little nervous…

“Teacher!  Teacher!”

“Yes?”

“How do you spell eye?”

“e-y-e”

“Teacher how do you spell ear?”

“E-a-r….why do you need to know…”

He ended up winning for best menu in his class.

(I did not spell feet for him )

Honorable Mentions:

A gruesome but interesting idea                         What can I say.  I like carrots.

The Bad:

While I was really intrigued with the creativity on this menu I have to put it in the bad category because the student completely missed the boat on the idea behind having an English class- half his menu is Korean:

This next one seems completely fine except that it is exactly the same as the ‘example’ I showed on the board.  I got about three of these exact same ones out of one class.

Though I shouldn’t complain because others didn’t have time to finish…

maybe should have given more time      …   This student just gave up in the end.

One student got lost in his concept and never got around to the meal plan…

While others never even tried.  (And yes this is one of four menus I got like this in one class)

And really how can it get an worse than this…well- I didn’t think so but…

The Ugly:

I don’t know if this is a reflection of me failing as a teacher but I think one student clearly didn’t get the concept behind what a restaurant is….

While this one was I think truly trying to be as offensive as possible….

Finding this one the day after reminded me of the time during orientation when a group of Koreans stopped us and asked where we were from.  Hearing that one of us was from the States they immediately went ‘Obama!’ and then circling their faces…we were fairly certain they were using the Korean for ‘mudface’  we got out of there quickly without repeating anything.

Thankfully, even though I’m a minority here my lily white skin, while laughed at back home, is a coveted thing here….well, at least my students call me pretty when they want candy from me…

So, food week had its ups and downs.  I followed that up with a lesson plan that got the students speaking in full ‘restaurant’ sentence without them knowing it, hopefully, in a form of a guessing game.

Lesson planning is a new thing for me and I’m leaning heavily on the new bonds I’ve made with those I’ve met in the EPIK program.  They’ve helped me greatly and in the end I hope I can return the favor.

Again, I should keep these pleas to a minimum, but I hope you enjoyed the post.  I understand that its more me being the proud, or disappointed, parent in this entry but I pray that you are able to get a bit of the humor I felt if not I hope it shows something.  I’m adjusting well here.  Even as I struggle to hold on I can feel the earth firming beneath me.  I’ll just have to watch my step for quick sand traps.

A Pointless Post about Korea (but not without its points)

Well, I’ve hit that wall called writer’s block and can’t seem to get a post up.

I’ve had all the best intentions but they all slipped away and I’ve been hitting the banana milk hard (always a bad sign)

I have given myself the task of getting this post done between periods at school and I will complete it! (even if I stop mid sentences as my students start to trickle into class)

My intention is to just spurt out a bunch of random things that I have seen in Korea that have not and maybe never will make it into my  posts.   Perhaps I’m suppose to be telling little stories or making erudite statements of what I’ve learned about Korea as a culture, an experience or even what I’ve learned about my inner self through those experience.  That’s all well and good and maybe I will do that in the next post.  But right now I’m being pointless….. and to do that I think I have to makes points… I hope you can follow.

My post will be in point form.  There are a number of reasons for this:

1. I’ve heard it makes my posts easier to read, and I’d really like people to read these things.

2.Banana Milk

3. I can seemingly connect random thoughts I have (see above) by putting them in a 1,2, 3 sequence.

4. I find it easier to write.

So without further adieu….

Pointless Points about Korea in Point Form

1. Picture a large truck.  I mean like a big truck that’s used for shipping things.  Now imagine that truck needs to back up.  Are you with me?  A large truck is backing up and what sound do you hear in your head.  Its that long mono-tone beeping sound isn’t it?  BEEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP.  Well not in Korea.  During orientation a group of my friends and I witnessed such an event.  The truck didn’t beep it played Moonlight Sonata.  How is that a warning?  It’s almost like a beckoning call.  It’s almost like Koreans want you to come closer so they can run you over with a lorry.

2.  Do you want to learn how to curse in Korean?  Well, there’s an easy way to do it in Korea.  You become a Native English Teacher and ask your kids to give themselves nicknames and then the next day when you are reading them out in class you’ll learn a few.  For example, one that was written down for me was SsiPalNom  I had repeated it several times to a torrent of giggles until the co-teacher thought it right to maybe stop me from calling a student ‘a son of a bitch’.  In another class I tried to get my tongue around the word ‘Ae-ja’.  Apparently that’s a disabled person- or retard…great.  But don’t forget to follow up on this.  During a lunch break I decided to get my students to teach me a couple curse words so that I wouldn’t be fooled again.  They gave me  gems like  ‘Jokka’- which is ‘fuck’.  Afterwards, when those students came into class they wanted to test my knowledge and asked me to repeat.  I sheepishly went ‘jokka’.  they said ‘good teacher. *hehe* good.’   ‘Ah,’ i said with a smirk on my face ‘ you have to say the word right’.  I then quickly changed my face, abruptly stood up, banged my hand on the table and cursed him out in a menacing voice.  He jumped back and went to his seat.  Another student laughed, ‘you act-a teacher’

3.  Which brings me on to my next point.  Koreans really like vowels.  They like vowels so much in their language that they like to end almost every word with a vowel sound.  This effects their English words as well.  I give out candy in my class and sometimes I let the winners choose exactly which candies they want from my bucket.  I constantly hear ‘Teacher, teacher, candy change-eee’ .  That’s right.  Not only do they add vowel sounds to the end of words with no vowels at the end but sometimes if an English word only has one vowel sound thats not enough for them- they need 2.  Change-eee.  Change-ee.  I hear this word so frequently that I have started to pick it up.  Which is bad.  I’m suppose to be the teacher.

4. This next point is not necessarily about Korea in particular but I’m on a role with this idea of picking up accents.  This time its about the dialect conversion of all the different native English speakers.  I know have friends that are from all parts of the United States, Canada, South Africa, New Zealand, Australia and England.  I find I have a sympathetic ear for different dialects and like to pick them up but I think its a contagious thing among the EPIK teachers.  Here are just a sampling of some of the phrases I picked up.  From Dani and Bryan, hailing from Boston, I’ve picked :”Right?  Right?” when agreeing with a sentence (can be used as a substitute for ‘I get it” “That’s/He/She is unbelievable” “I agree”) .  From Jo, who’s home is South Africa, many of us have started to use the increasingly popular word ‘keen’.  “I’m keen”"He’s keen” “Everyone’s keen!” Instead of saying words that really just seem too long now like ‘interesting’ you use the word ‘keen’.  “I’m keen to go out tonight” and can also be used when expression affection for another person “Did you know that Jane is keen on John?”.  From Joe, who flew himself here from Winchester, England, I’ve picked up too many idioms to count.  I have a slight up lift in my voice, especially at the end of words like ‘weekend’, that’s distinctly British sounding to me whenever I talk to him for more than five minutes.  It would be ridiculous, but increasing more possible,  that on my return home from Korea I come back not with a greater understanding on Hangul but with an English accent.  But for those who consort less with the limey  then I do the word ‘bloody’ has become a fun and extremely useful new cuss word.

5.  I may get told off later for saying this but the best food I’ve had in Korea so far has been Chinese.

6. Dressing rooms in Korea.  I need new clothes.  And this goes beyond the basic compulsion of mine to leave laundry to the last possible second.  I feel a bit out of the style loop in Korea so I thought I would go by some new threads.  But I get a little turned off by the dressing rooms.  Now in a mall that is filled with little shops you can expect that maybe a store would only have one dressing room for you to try things on but its also the same for department stores.  Now there is the big ‘M’ Department store and there are also places like EMart and GS Mart where you can buy clothes.  Instead of a place like Wal-Mart which has it’s different brand names in different sections but has one central large changing room M, EMart, and GSMart have all those sections governed by different shop staff with one little tiny dressing room per section.  I get discouraged easily.

7. Back to point one.  When a truck backs up it plays ‘Moonlight Sonata’- but that’s not the only place where Koreans have cleverly placed classical music.  When I call a friend I don’t here a ring but snip of classical music repeated over and over again.  When the bell rings its not loud trill sound but a small little musical number that tells the kids to change class.  On my way to work in the morning a neighbouring elementary school blares classical music that you can hear from blocks away.  However, when you get tickets to see the opera, as a group of us Chuncheoners did last night, do not expect classical music but instead tune your ears for Broadway number- albeit  it was from Phantom of the Opera (the best part of the night).

8.  Living in a country that speaks a language that you can’t even begin to understand sounds scary and it is a bit.  But don’t fret.  Just laugh and marvel at the good things about not speaking the language…like not having to engage in conversation you don’t want to with cab drivers about the weather (even though some of my half English-Korean convos with cabs have been some of the most amusing experiences).  Take the chance to be creative- make up completely nonsensical dialogue for your English co-teachers when you go out to lunch with them and they speak not a work of English to you the whole meal (my co-teacher figured a plot to take over the world using a stick of butter and a toothpick- it was quite ingenious really- thank god they were stopped in their plot by another co-teacher and his fiery kimchi breath).  Marvel at all the wonderful Konglish signs you see around you that mix up English with such poetic humor.

9. The other thing about Korea is that most English people, white or black people, will stick out like a sore thumb from a mile away.  It’s really interesting to be the minority for the first time in my life.  I don’t mind the staring so much at all- I’m a bit of a performer after all- especially when it comes from kids who look at you shyly for the whole elevator ride and then, prodded by their mother, say ‘hello’ is a whisper.  Its a strange thing you realize about the word ‘Hello’ when your in Korea.  Every time you hear that greeting “Hello” “Hi” turn around and wave because it always directed at you.

10. I don’t think anyone can understand Korea before coming here.  “Dynamic Korea” – everyone’s situation is different and the story that comes out of those unique situations won’t even begin to cover what it felt like to go through- but that’s the idea.  In the retelling of the story you want to make your audience laugh where you cried….and cried a lot.  I live to tell my next story to friends and to do that I must live the life of a native English teacher.  I hope my future post will be more along those lines.  And apologies if this post has failed to be mildly entertaining.  When you run your head directly into the brick wall of  writers block the end results don’t tend to be pretty.

Cheers,

a.

My Daejeon Weekend in 25 Easily Digestible Points

1. This weekend I went to Daejeon. It’s the fifth largest city in Korea with a population of about 1.5 million. Its known to be the science and technology hub of Korea and so, understandably, the only reason I went there is because I’ve taken quite a fancy to another English teacher who works in the area – and I mean really English, like with the odd accent you can’t understand and everything!

2. Joe, the English man (englishmaninsouthkorea.blogspot.com), is a charming sort of bloke so naturally picks me up from the subway at 9pm already smelling strongly of rice wine. The reasons for his early celebration having to do with the Daejeon teachers just finishing an additional three week training course for two hours everyday after school. I would have needed liquor as well.

3. I meet the Daejeon crew who are all nice, amusing or odd (a lovely combination in my books). I seem to make an alright impression. I make much better first impressions when my audience is already half pissed.

4. After staying out too late to catch the subway all the way home we wake up the next morning in time to go out for lunch with Joe’s co-teacher, the Guv’nor. A native Korean who spent his younger teenage years in Utah, the Guv’nor speaks in fluent un-accented English and is a man whose ability to find you what you need in Daejeon is matched only by his wicked taste in food. We feast on some delectable Korean-Chinese food just outside the city limits. The Guv’nor agrees to take us out next time to another one of his top ten restaurants in Deajeon.

5. The Guv’nor is kind enough to take us to Expo Park where there is a dinosaur exhibit that Joe assures me he has free tickets for. But when we arrive at the ticket booth they wrangle 24,000 won out of us for entrance. Which would have been fine if the museum wasn’t…on to the next point!

6. The museum was shite! There was a 3-D experience that consisted of standing in front of 9 posters with some blue and red glasses. Joe’s yelp of surprise and quick jump back as he realized the large (15 feet) plastic dinosaurs moved was priceless but short lived. Nearby children jumped on a 10 foot high inflatable triceratops. Our inability to play in the children’s sandpit where you could dig up bones (due to ageism) or play on little tricycles (due to Korean height restrictions for children’s toys) soon ended our visit.

7. We then decided to wonder around Expo Park. It was an eerie experience. The Guv’nor had told us it had been losing money ever since it was built and we soon understood why – it felt like walking through a ghost town. I was buoyed to continue by the site of a roller coaster in the distance. Joe continued to be displeased.

8. On entering the amusement park section of the Expo we were greeted with more of a crowd- but not much. Joe gets a picture with a person dressed up in a pseudo-tele-tubby costume. The only difference being that this large headed green creature has a sour face and is holding a large brown plastic liquor bottle. He interacts with the children all day by chugging from his bottle and nearly falling off benches. They familiarize the kids early with drunkenness in Korea.

9. I practically have to drag Joe over to buy tickets to the roller coaster as he makes every detour imaginable to distract me. Joe doesn’t like roller coasters, and while I’m usually scared of such things as well making Joe scared makes me happy and distracts me from my own fear. I keep on repeating the word ‘dinosaurs’ to indicate that he owes me.

10. Joe is a really good sport about it in the end- which makes me nervous as we buckle in. It’s a small roller coaster by most standards but it scares the crap out of me. The only reason I seem okay is because Joe is yelling through every twist and turn and loop-da-loop in the seat next to me.

11. After the ride and some ice cream we decide to find out where we can get the double bicycles we’d seen people on earlier. The bicycle-built-for-two looks a bit like a rickshaw to Joe. Two bicycles are welded together side by side and incased within a frame with a basket on the front for smaller children to sit in. There are two steering wheels but only the driver’s side one works. We choose the blue one.

12. Joe drives first while I take pictures (including one of a confused Korean child on top of a giant plastic crocodile). We shout ‘hello’ back at the Korean teenagers that wave at us. Joe enjoys jerking the wheel wildly to jostle me around in the midst of my shots and because of the open frame I feel like I’m going to fall out every time.

13. Then its my turn. In Canada I never got my license and it clearly shows. Joe tries to steer from the passenger seat numerous times. We switch again.

14. Unable to drive I direct which path we should take. I goad Joe in the direction of the 93 meter tower (Expo ’93) in the center of the park. Around the base of the tower is a wide circular area of sleek stone with a sharp drop off (moat style) about ten feet from the tower. And because I tell Joe to stay away from the edge he widely steers towards it…don’t worry this is not where the crash happens.

15. Ready to punch the Brit he graciously allows me to steer again. As I change my spot the English man decides to become a Jamaican bobsledder. He starts pushing the bicycle contraption as I peddle readying himself to jump on. Due to my bad driving skills and poor nerves, from the antics of a limey bastard, I take a sharp turn around an on coming obstacle.

16. The counterbalance of the rickshaw bike is completely thrown off due to my missing partner. The rickshaw bike lurches…it tilts…it comes down hard on its side directly on top of me!

17. Joe is quick to respond and lifts the rickshaw off my trapped leg. I take a second. I feel pain- that’s good right? I avoid any major injury and escape only with a few bruises on each leg and a scratched ankle. The bicycle had toppled in what seemed like slow motion giving me enough time to move myself mostly out of harm’s way.

18. A bit guilt ridden the Brit agrees to steer us back. We discuss our plans on returning our rickshaw which has sustained some injury, including a bent pedal, torn sign, and dislocated front carriage, we decide on the ‘dump and run’ scenario. We walk as quickly and inconspicuously as possible toward the front gate.

19. Limping along, , we explore the famous Daejeon arched bridge and make our way to the nearest subway to meet up with friends coming in from Wonju. We take a couple more wanker shadow picture along the way.

20. We meet Jakub and the Safers of Wonju plus two new Canadians! (though I think I meet some ill will when I sighed dejectedly that they were Canadians, yet again, from the Greater Toronto Area.) We ate at a nice little corner restaurant which suited Jakub’s dietary needs (really? you can’t eat spicy food and you come to Korea?…he’s lost about ten pounds since he’s been here).

21. We exchanged some gossip, retold my near death experience and talked about their plans to undertake a two hour hike up a mountain at 8am the next day…would we like to join them?…ummm, no- we point to our footwear, chucks, as a pathetic excuse.

22. After some final drinks the mountain keeners leave and we head to the apartment of some of Joe’s Deajeon friends. After a football match no really cared for anyway, its seems both teams are widely hated in Britain due mainly to the fact that both teams are really good which is something not tolerated in the U.K, and some drinks we head out for the night.

23. We head out to a dance club called Cocoon. We dance the night away and mingle with a few Koreans and show them our North American style dance moves which involve lots of hip movements, droppin’ it likes it’s hot, and a version of the Carleton a la ‘The Fresh Prince of Bel Air’.

24. We again wake up late and have to head out to make sure I can catch a bus going back to Chuncheon. We stop in the old downtown area for some eats. We buy spicy chicken from some street vendors and then we hit up the best bakery in Daejeon. This is the first time I see any Easter decorations in Korea- the bakery has a nice Easter display set up. When Joe buys his food they give him an egg. Not knowing it was hard boiled I refuse to have it cracked on my head fearing Joe wants to ruin my awesome plaid shirt.

25. We soak in the sun- finally the first signs of warm weather to come- while eating our bread. We end our time together buy taking, what is becoming, the traditional picture, of our Chuck shoes side by side. I’m stuffed in a taxi to the bus terminal and there ends my weekend.

The Story of the Lost Key

I’ve been in Korea a little more than a month now and I’ve already had a series of misfortunes.
I nearly cried in front of my principal and co-teacher because I was so nervous and distraught about my placement in a high school instead of a elementary school.
I was able to keep it to a minimum of my eyes welling up when I was told my co-teacher, the only person I’d meet who spoke decent English, would leave me in two days before the start of classes and would not return for six months. The reason for his absence was that he did not like teaching in the high school I was now employed in.
All of my co-teachers, save one, are new to teaching this year and are, in many respects as clueless as me. The students bullied one co-teacher, paid her little respect, and it was me who had to tell them to stop. A great deal of my candy was stolen in the first week by a bunch of these students while they were cleaning the room under another teacher’s supervision.
On top of all this I got so sick within the first two weeks that I had to go to a doctor and be placed on antibiotics, which I had an allergic reaction to and had to get yet another prescription.
And then comes the story of my lost key…

A friend of mine had recommend I take up running. I’ve been blessed with an averaged sized body that needs little up keep to stay trim so while I look in shape (enough) I’ve never really ‘been in shape’. I wanted to try to change that while in Korea. The goal was to be able to do a 5km, or maybe even 10km, run by May. This was the plan about three weeks ago and I had yet to start.
I decided that on Monday after school of this week I would start. I walked directly home to change so I could not change my mind. I would not eat super until I returned.
I was very minimal- I wore my EPIK sweater, a pair of long shorts and my running shoes. The only other things I took were my MP3 player and the key to my apartment. Since I had no pockets I tucked my key into my bra. A safe keeping place I had used for my key when working in the food service industry where the girl pants without pockets were required for the job.
So off I went. I had chosen a road a block from my own place that looked like it went on unaltered by side roads for quite a while. I was determined to run until I hit an intersection. Oh determination- what a bloody pain in the ass that turned out to be!
I have no idea how far I ran because I wasn’t good at judging the distance but lets just say it was pretty far for a first timer. I was pretty impressed with myself, despite my slower speed. I made it to the intersection and turned back and made it about half way back before I started to get really tired and decided to walk the rest of the way home. It was at about 3/4 the way home when I started thinking about home and the dinner of pizza I would have. I reached down my shirt and felt for my key along my bra line. I felt again.
There was nothing there. I gave my boobs another full feel around the bottom area near the wire and still nothing.
I patted myself down. I looked at the ground. I looked towards home with a longing expression and then back from where I had come. I turned and started walking back with my head to the ground looking for my key.
Along the way I harassed several Koreans with my simple English and ridiculous hand gestures “Key. I drop. My Key. Did you SEE a KEY?” They all said ‘no’ and backed around me with a wide berth.
I got all the way to the intersection and dejectedly turned again to walk home. About 1/2 way home with my head to the ground I say a Korean man approaching going the same direction as me. I did my simple key question again. His answer was negative as well but because we had a similar gait and were going in the same direction he was beside me for most of the way home.
He asked where I was from, how old I was, where I worked and where I lived …all rather normal non-intrusive questions in Korea.
The hunt for my key was looking like a complete failure and recognizing this the Korean Man, we shall call him Mr.S, asked if I had a phone, knew the number of my friend, or had an extra key with someone. To which I replied ‘no’ to all.
He frowned ” I friend…speak English good.”
He got out his phone and dialled a number. He talked for a minute and handed the phone to me. “Good English.”
And his friend certainly did speak good English! As I kept my head to the ground looking for the key all the way into my apartment building his friend said that Mr.S would call a locksmith for me so I could get into my house.
Mr. S called the locksmith as we waited at my door with no key in hand. He asked me ” You cannot find key- right?”
I started to pat myself down again I was patting down my chest again when I realized Mr.S was looking at me funny. I stopped short of a full examination.
Mr. S called the locksmith and then took me to eat at a Chinese food place across the street…best random bowl of noodles and unknown sauce I’ve ever had.
As we were leaving to meet the locksmith the owner of the store came jogging after us with something in her hand.
Ironically, after trying to help a wae-gook look for her key for near an hour, Mr.S had almost forgotten his own keys in the shop. We both shared a hearty chuckle at this as we left.
The locksmith had already broken into my place by the time we arrived.
Mr.S talked to the locksmith about getting me a new lock because I didn’t have a key.
The locksmith disappeared down to his truck for the lock and while we waited I asked Mr.S if he wanted to wait inside.
“Come in? You no roommate…no friend…no roommate.”
He looked absolutely terrified of the idea. He hesitantly stepped in though.
I got out my phone and called our Chuncheon coordinator Mr.C who speaks both English and Korean. I tell him what happened and just let him know that I want him to make sure Mr.S knows I’m very thankful.
I hand the phone to Mr.S and he starts talking…then he starts laughing and I know they are laughing about me. I don’t mind- I’m in my apartment!
Mr.S hands me the phone back and Mr.C starts laughing at me.
“You meet this man on the street and you got him to help you look for your key and invited him all the way to your house…”
“Yeah…I…I mean I thought Koreans were very friendly.”
“They are, they are but….(laughing continues).”
“I wanted to give him something. Something to say thank you…” I trail off thinking that the only thing I have is some extra wine from what I brought as gifts for my co-teachers.
Mr.C is done laughing and hasn’t really heard me. “It seems that your okay just give me a call if there is anything else and I’ll be right over.”
“Okay, thanks”
The locksmith is done. I’ve paid him his money and he’s given me three keys. Both Mr.S and the locksmith start to leave. I motion for Mr.S to wait. I want to give him something.
He points at his chest “Me? Why?”
‘One minute’ I motion.
I run back and get the wine and bring it to the door. I’m holding it near me because I don’t want to give it to the locksmith who is looking and waiting for the elevator. I try to pass it Mr. S but as soon as he sees the bottle he’s backing off and saying “No, No, No”. He’s quickly peddling backwards and waving his hands in front of himself. If he could have run I swear he would have.
I call out thank you and good-bye as the man hurries to the elevator but I don’t think he hears me.
As I close the door to my apartment I realize that Mr.S has probably though I was trying to come on to him.
While we ate I asked him how old he was and then said he looked young for forty years old.
I had my hand up my shirt trying to feel for my keys along the wire of my bra while he couldn’t help but notice.
I had asked him into my house when I didn’t have a roommate (to supervise?).
And because I held the wine to my chest for so long he must have thought that I was not trying to give him the bottle but trying to ask him back in to share a drink.
I leaned against the door.
‘You know,’ I thought ‘at least it all was worth it. Without my key or any way to get a locksmith I wouldn’t be in my warm apartment right now.’
I started to change into my pyjamas – ‘At least it was worth it’
PLONK!
I had taken off my bra and what had fallen to the floor…

My Key!

And that story lets you know a little about the luck I’ve been having in my new life in Korea. A series of misfortunes have befallen me on my journey but I’m still glad that a simple retelling of any of them with the right spin can make a listener laugh so hard that they lose their breath. Because even though I’ve found my share of obstacles along the way this first month in Korea has been one of most memorable and exciting in all my life.

Here’s to many more! Cheers!

My Second Day

My second day in Chuncheon was Feb. 27 2010.

I was left all by myself.

My first co-teacher Mr. H had taken me to the house of my team-teacher Ms. Kim the night before at her behest.

She was hosting another EPIK teacher, Kelly, because her daughter Sujin was Kelly’s co-teacher at another school and Kelly did not have an apartment yet. Mr. H was not keen to stay long so we departed shortly after.

Nestor had left me his old phone, which was good for three more days, so I passed the number on to Sujin and Mr.H. Sujin and Kelly made a plan to meet up with me in the afternoon of the next day. Mr. H left me at my apartment door the first night with a promise that he would call sometime before he left in the next two days to check in. I never heard from him again.

So, with a vague sense of where the grocery store was I set off for it in late morning hours.

As I came to the first intersection and was starting to doubt my directional abilities, which had always been shit, my borrowed phone started to ring. It was Nestor!

I stood at the corner of a four way intersection and started to explain how I was lost on the way to the grocery store. As I described, badly, my surroundings Nestor tried to orientate me again towards the GS Mart. I probably looked like the most confused wae-gook any Korean had ever seen squinting in four directions and speaking loudly into my phone that “There is a store with a sign that has Korean writing on it across from me… so where am I?”

At that moment, out the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of someone running across the road, ignoring the traffic lights, directly toward me. I turned in fright- North Koreans!- but no it was Bryan, my camera suave friend from orientation who came to Chuncheon with his wife Dani. Seeing a familiar face I started to jump rapidly up and down, with the phone still to my ear,as he charged towards me. Bryan grabbed me around the waist as I was up in the air and nearly had me to the road before my practical side shouted at him that we should wait for the light.

I said good-bye to Nestor and Bryan and I, where a moment before we had been yipping and yelling at each other, stood docile and calm waiting for the light. When we got the green light we sprinted to the car across the road which contained Dani and her co-teacher Sunny.

As Sunny gave us a tour of Chuncheon I told Bryan and Dani about my placement and recounted first day stories. Sunny pointed out interesting sites including where you could get a good taste of dog meat in Chuncheon…Dani and I quickly repeated the word dog meat in Korean (Kaegoggi) so we could stay away from it.

Sunny was nice enough to drop me back off at my apartment for my meeting with Sujin and Kelly. With them I went grocery shopping at the new, large supermarket Lotte Mart and tried to find Kelly some more school clothes in an underground mall with little success. While there Sujin tested me on my Korean lettering- which was poor- but she was encouraging so it was nice.

So my second day in Chuncheon was not so much a lesson of how to defend for yourself as it was learning the art of mooching off other’s co-teachers. I have to say, I became quite good at it.