Not Being There.

I shouldn't publish this because my family reads my blog, but it's time for my annual writing-share with my students.  This is what I'll be sharing tomorrow:

But they never call me. Near the end of my first year teaching in Korea, I had just signed a contract for my dream teaching job—a high school for students gifted in foreign languages—that would keep me in Korea another two years, when the e-mail notification for my internet phone line popped up with a message from my parents. During my year teaching English to elementary and middle school kids at an after-school academy called a hagwon, we'd fallen into a comfortable pattern where I'd call them on my Sunday mornings (their Saturday evenings with the time difference) to chat about life from 7,000 miles away. Yet, here was a message on Tuesday morning—one hour before my daily taekwondo lesson.

I had just fixed breakfast—instant apple cinnamon Quaker oatmeal that I'd scrounged up at Costco, a luxury in a country that feasts on rice and bean-paste soup with a spicy pickled cabbage dish called kimchi for nearly every meal. Why did they call on a Tuesday?

I clicked play and the worry in my mom's voice rang out over the tinny laptop speakers. “Honey, it's your mother. We don't want to worry you, but you should call us back right away. Dad's tests came back from the doctor.”

I tried to remember what we'd talked about this weekend. Mom had mentioned a doctor appointment, but it had seemed routine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Dad always goes to doctors for his diabetes and hypertension. Why that tone? The one she'd used to tell me my grandmother died.

In my head, I counted back the hours. Tuesday morning at 9:30 in Korea meant that it was 8:30 Monday evening in D.C. I hooked up my computer's microphone and dialed.

My sister answered. “Hello?” Even she sounded less energetic and more distant than usual.

“What's up? You sound weird.”

“I don't even get a 'hello' now?” She tried to pass it off like a joke. She was still a little angry with me at having moved halfway across the planet for her senior year of high school.

“Mom called. She sounded weird, too. What's going on over there?”

Sarah paused, unable to respond. “Maybe you should talk to Mom. Let me get her.” Listening to her fumble for words was a shock. She always has a snappy comeback. Always.

My oatmeal had congealed into a lukewarm lump. I didn't care. I wasn't hungry.

“Hello, dear.” Mom's voice still had that tone.

“What is it? You guys are really starting to worry me. Is Dad okay?”

“He's fine.” She had to swallow. “I told you this weekend that he was going to his doctor. Well, we didn't want to worry you, but it was not his normal doctor.”

“What do you mean? Tell me, Mom. Spit it out.”

“He went to an oncologist for testing. He has something called multiple myeloma. But don't worry. There's a lot of hope. There are so many treatments these days and the outcome is usually—”

“Wait, Mom. Did you just say Dad has cancer?”

“Yes, but the treatments these days—” She went on to tell me a lot of things about multiple myeloma that I did not hear. My father had cancer. And I was 7,000 miles away in a country that ate kimchi for breakfast. I had never felt so alone and so helpless in my life. I spoke to my father that morning, too, but I can't remember what he said either. I was thinking about the fact that I had just signed on to be away from my family for another two years and wouldn't even get a chance to visit them between the jobs. After I got off the phone with my parents, I canceled my taekwondo lesson, crawled back into bed, and forgot about the dried, cold oatmeal and the multiple myeloma and slept.

Two years later, having finished my employment contract with the foreign language high school and returned home to Maryland, I can finally talk about it. I still have trouble with the c-word, but I can say my father is in remission. I can joke with him a little about the fact that he can't use public swimming pools anymore because the risk of infection is too great. I ask him about the plans he's made for when it recurs in five years or so.

But I wasn't there when he lost 40 lbs and all his hair. His doctors wouldn't let me visit him while he was undergoing the bone marrow therapy because I was coming from a foreign country. I was half a world away when my family faced the biggest crisis they ever have because they all told me it was okay, and that I should take the job I wanted because it was such a great opportunity, and that there wasn't really anything I could do to help while he was in the hospital anyways because my brother didn't have a job right now and the economy was bad, so he could do what was needed. I wasn't there and my body rebelled, tore my guts to pieces, and put me in a Korean hospital a year ago. The doctors call it “ulcerative colitis,” but I know the truth. It's a physical manifestation of the guilt of not being there.

Every single day, I miss kimchi and taekwondo and the adventures I had in my husband's homeland. Was it the easy way out? My brother thinks it was. He resents me for not being there. For falling in love and getting married while our father almost died. My sister's anger at me for leaving in the first place grew more bitter. We remain distant compared to the inseparability we once had.

My dad is the only one that understands and approves.

“Cancer changed me,” he said last weekend while we were sailing on the boat he bought earlier this year. “All for the better. I would never have bought this boat, for example. A dream I've had for years—it just never would have happened. I was far too caught up in worrying about the future to realize that the present is what matters.” I look away, so he can't see the tears forming in my eyes. “I'm so glad you were off in Korea, having adventures, writing about them, sending us pictures.”

He doesn't say he was happy I didn't see him frail and weak like his other children did. He doesn't say that my getting married in Korea in January gave him something to get better for. He doesn't need to.

I know not being there was my way of being there for my father. But not being there was the hardest thing I've ever done.

I'm here, now, though. And now, sometimes for no reason at all, my father calls me to chat. And I don't have to wonder why he's calling on a Tuesday morning.

Ok, Korea... what do you want from me?

With about 24 hours to go before I hop on the plane to DC (which explains the lack of updates, btw), Korea's trying to send me a message about my leaving, but I can't figure out what it is, yet. Here are the news events from the last few days that are just... bizarre:

1. My school was hit with a major round of food poisoning, cancelling all my classes on Monday. The cafeteria is now out of commission until further notice.

2. The day after we leave Jeju (yes, tons of pictures and blogging from that to come) to return to Daegu, it's hit by typhoon Dianmu. A major one (and the rains from it have made it up to the mainland now, too) that closed down all the airports. Hopefully it will have passed through Korea by tomorrow and not be affecting Incheon... Sheesh.

3. A bus exploded in Seoul Monday, injuring 17 people. It's so crazy because nothing like that had happened to these buses before and now everyone's worried about the safety of these buses that run on natural gas.

4. North Korea. I really don't know if I need to say more since the situation is so charged up right now that it's actually making the headlines in the U.S. again.

So... is 우리나라 telling me to go or to stay or to do a silly dance? Dunno. I'm just trying to go about my business of getting everything done and packed and saying goodbye to as many people as possible without weeping hysterically (Ohmma almost broke me down last night when she started crying and agreed to visit the U.S. for the first time) before we hop the 3 am bus to Incheon with two cats.

Thankfully, my wonderful husband is willing to do the round trip with me to Incheon (five hours in a bus each way) to ease the process of checking in the cats and to say goodbye melodramatically as we separate for the next month.

But for now, I have to go meet Se Jin for coffee. On about 4 hours of sleep with the rain pelting down... Korea... I'll miss you, though you seem to be pouting like a spoiled child at my departure.

Crossing Off To-Do Lists

I tried to write about saying goodbye to my students at Taegu Foreign Language High School. But I was unable to do so at this time. It's been very emotional. Even just mentioning my goodbye meals with my co-workers at TFLHS is getting me a little choked up. Some of these men and women (especially the women) are the smartest, hardest-working teachers I know. Even when I disagree with them (or they with me), I thoroughly respect their point of view and their professionalism. Although it's not like saying goodbye to Roosevelt, which was my first teaching job and first professional career post college, it's still tough.


At the goodbye luncheon with the English Department; My present is a Korean cookbook in English.

I've been here two years. In that time I've learned a lot about negotiation, bureaucracy, cultural nuances, testing, and assumptions. (Yes, I learned some of that at Oedae, but honestly, the hagwons are run like businesses more than schools, and I was lucky enough to work for an American director which insulated me from a lot of the workplace cultural differences). These things were always a part of teaching in the U.S., but experiencing them in another country has made them more transparent to me. A lot of foreign teachers come to Korea without having taught before, so perhaps their perspective is a little different, but I have to say that even if I never return to an international position, the things I've learned here will change how I approach teaching forever.

Rather than deal with emotional enormity of leaving my students and my position, I've chosen to focus today on the necessary tasks I must complete before I board the plane out of here in 23 (really? REALLY?) days and return "home" (or rather, repatriate). I would say that it's amazing how entrenched I've become in Korea and my life here, but those of you who know me know that it's hardly surprising that I dug right in and made myself at home. For the last year, I've been slowly moving towards minimalism and so I'm not really surprised by the amount of things I've collected here (as I've been increasing my awareness of and trying to let go my connection with stuff), but organizing, packing, and preparing it does rekindle memories of Korean classes and taekwondo belts gone by.

And so, my nose is to the grindstone (as it were), and my heart is in nostalgia-ville (visiting its cousins, the tear ducts, from sentimental-town). It's a process. Ever circular, but ever forward. Especially circular as the woman whose job I took when I first arrived in Korea three years ago, Jane, landed in Korea yesterday to return to her old position. I believe I may return some of the things she gave me to their original owner (who'd have thunk it?).

I started this journey alone, with my cat and vague hopes for the future. I'm returning with a husband, another cat, a black belt in taekwondo, thousands of pictures, many more memories, and a lot of love and respect for a country that will now always be another "home." Life can change a lot in three years, or not at all. In the end, it's not what happens to you--it's who you are.

Enjoy some pictures of the students I can't write about or I'll start crying:

English Theater Festival at 외고 2010

Contributing Writer to Joongang Daily

Well, this has been a very emotional week for me, and I want to write about it all. However, I've also come down with the flu. So I will give you a few highlights:

--We held the second English Play Festival at our school (I mentioned last year's festival in brief). I wrote an article for the Joongang Daily that ran on Friday about our schools English Play Festival. You can read "Students learn English through acting in Daegu," which is my attempt to keep some things foreign teachers do in Korea in a positive light. William wrote a much more detailed and emotional view of our brainchild over at his blog. I will put up my own thoughts and feelings about this later when I can do so without being reduced to an emotional puddle of goo.

--Saja likes to chase her tail. She does this daily for about 10 minutes. It's very entertaining, so I will share my 30 second clip of it with you:




I will fill you in on more happenings (of which there are many) in short order. For now, back to bed with more medicine.

Calling All Teacher Dorks.

Since I will be leaving the country in less than three months, my school is looking to replace me. It's a great place to work with amazing students and co-teachers, although a lot more demanding (both intellectually and in terms of work load) so we're looking for someone who really enjoys teaching. Actually my job is one of the reasons I'm most reluctant to leave Korea.

It's through EPIK, so it's on the EPIK pay scale. Since we have two teachers at the school, the school would prefer a female candidate (the other teacher is William who is signing on again). Feel free to contact me with questions and for more info.

Learning from my colleagues

"Ms. Park... why are there sprinklers watering the dusty athletic field that has no grass whatsoever?"

"Oh... The field gets too dusty, so they try to keep it damp. It's healthier for the students' lungs."

Weird. Especially since it rained yesterday. But hey... the answer makes more sense than not knowing.

***

Mr. Lee is a math teacher who takes my English conversation class for non-English teachers. He is the most capable of speaking in English (though some of the other teachers are just as good at reading/writing). He recently welcomed his second child--a son. We'd been studying families and the homework assignment was to write an essay describing his family. In the essay he said his son was 16 days old and in a 조리원. I had no idea what that was, so I asked him.

"It's a kind of place for children after they are born. A house kind of." His face looked a little pained as he searched for the words to explain. I misunderstood this as worry for his son and thought it might be an incubator.

"Like a small glass house that sometimes babies go if they are too early?"

"No. no. It's for babies and mothers. A resting place."

"Oh, not in a hospital?"

"No, not a hospital. It's warm. In Korea we think warm is good for the baby and the mother. And women help with the baby so my wife can rest."

"I don't think we have those in America. Like a place just for women and newborn babies so they don't have to cook for themselves and such? Nurses and other helpers take care of mom and baby?"

"Yes. For maybe three weeks."

"Wow! That would be so nice. Is it expensive?"

"Some. We are using an expensive place!" He says this with pride.

"How much is it?"

"Our place is 2,700,000 won."

"For the whole three weeks?"

"Yes."

"That's not too bad, considering how much help it must be to your wife!"

***

Back in the teacher's room, I tell Ms. Suh what I learned about 조리원 to confirm that I understood what Mr. Lee was saying. We then started talking about the differences between America and Korea in birth culture.

"I think American women and Korean women are different species," declares Ms. Suh with a playful smile on her face.

"No, no. Not different species! Just different cultures." I insist.

"My friend told me that in America when women give birth, they can walk the next day. That's not true in Korea."

I'd heard about the belief in Korea that after giving birth women should rest in a rather extreme fashion, so I objected quickly. "Korean women CAN walk, too. They just don't."

Ms. Suh insisted for a few minutes more, while I maintained that biologically, Korean women are capable of walking but culturally they are instructed not to do so, until Ms. Park (who has two children) returned to help us out.

"Ms Park, help us out. Can Korean women walk after giving birth?"

"Yes! Ms. Park will know because she has experience! Tell us!" Ms. Suh was very excited at this point.

Ms. Park gave us both the funniest deadpan look. "Well, people like to say that women can't walk after giving birth. But two hours after the birth of my daughter, I was up and walking around the hospital looking for her."

We all laughed.

After Ms. Suh went off to class, I learned more about the cultural practices surrounding birth in Korea from Ms. Park. Like women in the 조리원 are not supposed to stand to shower for the first few days (ew!) and have to be wheeled around like an invalid for a week or more.

Overall a very educational day for me...

Top Ten Reasons to Return to U.S.A.

I've been struggling ever since buying my (much too expensive) plane ticket back to D.C. last week (and booking the kitties to ride with me, of course) with the reality that I'm leaving Korea--my home for the last three years.

I know I'm making the right choice for myself and my family in returning, but I am going to miss so many things about my life here and am returning to so much uncertainty (no job, no apartment, no health care--ack!) in a poor economic climate (when I know that if I stayed one more year here I'd be grad school debt free) that I keep second guessing my decision. What's really annoying is that my brain decided to wait until AFTER I've done something pretty permanent, like buying a one-way plane ticket and a visa for my husband, to start questioning my decision. Perhaps my brain knew better than to question before, since I'm facing some pretty compelling reasons to stay here one more year--not the least of which is that I love LOVE my job and it's likely the job market for teachers in the DC area (which is a hot mess right now) will be much more favorable at this time next year.

I need to list the reasons why I want to return so that I can make it more appealing.

1. Professional development. Having completed my MA last year, I'm now at a career stand-still in my current job, even though I love it. My long term career goals require me to return to the states for at least three years and possibly pursue certification in a second or third area and I can't really do that here.
2. Family. Can't get into this on the blog, but I've been away too long. It's been a rough year for the family and while my return will initially burden them, I think after a few months and getting established, I can help them out a lot.
3. Min Gi getting to know my culture. I've lived in his for three years, and it really allows me to appreciate him in ways I don't know that I would if I hadn't lived here. I'm hoping living in America does the same for him with me.
4. Value to society. In Korea, I'm kind of a non-member of society. My contributions here, while difficult for me and important for the people I see daily, are rather insignificant and shallow compared with when I lived in the U.S.
5. Certain hobbies. I haven't been able to do theater, sew, sail, garden, bake, swim regularly, or go camping in Korea. I miss these activities immensely. (Of course, conversely... continuing TKD, skiing, and swing dance will all be much more expensive in the U.S.)
6. Going Vegan. Considering doing this. In America, it will be much easier.
7. Seeing Green. Korea is a concrete jungle. Now, yes, I know the suburban sprawl has many disadvantages, not the least of which is rendering a car an almost necessity, but there are so many pretty parks in residential areas. I love being outdoors in the U.S. It's harder to get that feeling in Korea, though I certainly have found some ways to achieve it.
8. Diversity of Food. There is just so much more choice in America. Although I plan to try to eat more locally than I did when I last lived in the U.S., I still love wandering through supermarkets in general wonder and glee. Any ingredients you need to make Korean foods are readily available in America. This is NOT true in reverse. (For that matter, diversity in other things is also a good thing about America).
9. Privacy/Space. People have a wide personal space bubble and respect it. You can have an evening drink in your own backyard--a personal piece of paradise. No one will dare touch your boobs, your hair, or your car (or if they do, you're allowed to shoot them... well... maybe not, but certainly within your rights to give them a nasty dressing-down).
10. Bathtubs. It's just not the same to take your novel to the local jjimjilbang.

Care to add yours? Please... inspire me to want to go back to the U.S. Please... I'm on the verge of cancelling my ticket and signing on for another year...

Wash Your Own Darn Cup!

This morning I walked into the staff room to fix my usual cup of green tea. The principal was at the sink, halfheartedly running water over his coffee mug. As I entered, he gave me a pathetic little half-smile. This was not a look of greeting, but I had no idea why he was looking at me like that, so I smiled back weakly and proceeded to get my tea.

Five seconds later the female gym teacher comes barging in with a horrified expression on her face, yanks the coffee mug out of his hands, and washes it for him. He leaves the room without so much as a thank you when it dawns on me: He expected that I was going to wash his mug for him.

In Korea, female subordinates (by age or position) always do things like get the coffee and wash the dishes for the office. I try to ignore it because it gets the feminist all riled up in me, and usually I can because they don't expect foreigners to comply with Korean hierarchy all the time. But now that I'm married to a Korean man, the principal must think I'm a Korean woman.

I say to you Mr. Principal, if you are really so helpless as a 50 year old man that you can't wash a coffee cup, you don't deserve to be drinking coffee, much less running a school. Do you even wipe your own bottom?

Oh, Korea...

Teaching Teachers.

I started out writing this post wanting to tell you about what I've been doing on the teaching front this last month, however, I found that I first must confess to you my greatest failure as a teacher. Doing so is not easy for me. I feel that I am, usually, an excellent teacher, and that if I encounter a situation where my methods are not working, I find ways to adapt and make the class successful. However, in this instance, I feel like a failure. In fact, you could say that I'm giving up--something I have never before done in my career. I am ashamed. I don't want to share this with you. But I must be honest.

A year and a half ago, I began teaching at Taegu Foreign Language High School (TFLHS). In addition to teaching conversation and co-teaching reading and culture classes to our wonderful students, I was asked to teach a class for the English teachers at 외고. At the time, I was overwhelmed and confused. I'd never taught adults before and hadn't finished my master's, so I felt unqualified and intimidated. Furthermore, the teachers gave me no guidelines about their own expectations for the course, merely a negative review of the previous native teacher who had shown episodes of Friends (25 minutes) and then discussed them after.

I had some ambitions for the twice a week class, mostly inspired by the excellent seminars I experienced with the Martha's Vineyard Summer Institute where I took most of my graduate coursework. We started by alternating discussions of teaching philosophy and pedagogy with single-shot lessons about tricky points of English grammar and usage, such as helper verbs and conditional language. I offered them the class a place to discuss problems they were having teaching students that I could help with, but none of them brought these to class (though they certainly weren't shy about asking me privately during my planning time). I began to develop huge management problems--they never came on time (we're talking 15 minutes late or more) or consistently; my boss, who was a student in the class, would cancel class at her whim and forget to tell me about it; they refused to do any studying outside of class; they seemed dissatisfied with what they were learning in class, but wouldn't answer my questions about what they wanted to do/learn. It was completely impossible. I felt like a crappy teacher who couldn't do anything right. Usually, I can adjust myself with high school students who need more structure and "crack the whip" so to speak, thereby solving my management problems. But with colleagues, especially since one of them is my boss, I couldn't do this.

When the new school year started last March, I tried to take control by making the class more structured. I required that they show up by five minutes into the class. I gave them notebooks and had a written warm up for every class and offered to read their journals if they chose to practice writing in English. I asked if they were interested in having a book discussion club of sorts where we'd read an English book together (a chapter a week) and one of the classes would be a discussion of the contents. If some didn't want to do this, they could still come to the other lesson in the week, which would focus on debate and continue usage lessons. They all liked the idea and agreed to read Bill Bryson's The Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way.

It worked (more or less) for about two months. However, as exam time approached and teachers got busier, they stopped reading the book, stopped coming to class, stopped wanting to do anything in class but discuss silly, nonsensical topics like shopping(they complained when I would introduce debate topics about education because they claimed they were sick of talking about it and they couldn't change anything anyway), stopped bringing their notebooks and pens to class to write. I came to hate teaching this class and resent the English teachers at my school (who I usually loved for other reasons--they are generally good, hardworking teachers who really try to make sure William and I are informed and supported).

Perhaps they sensed my animosity because by the start of second semester, we were down to just four regular students (out of 12 Korean English teachers). By the end, we were reading The Crucible aloud together. The teachers who made it through to the end seemed to really enjoy and appreciate this, but I feel like such a failure for losing so many students and not being able to ever feel like the class was my own.

No class--not even my sixth period class from hell my first year of teaching that included a young man who showed up high on the second day of school--has ever made me feel less competent and talented at teaching than this class of colleagues.

I started to wonder if maybe I just wasn't up to par when it came to teaching adults. However, this January provided me with the opportunity to see that this just isn't the case. I'm so glad that my teaching self-esteem in this area has been mostly restored.

Instead of participating in the regular English camps for students that the public schools in Daegu sponsor, I opted to do the same as last winter and teach at a training certification camp for Korean English teachers, along with William and four other English teachers in Daegu.

One reason I enjoy teaching this kind of seminar is that it provides new insight into how the public schools in Korea work from a professional perspective. Having worked as a public school teacher in the U.S., I'm quite interested in some of these differences. After four years in the Daegu public schools, teachers can take this five-week long training program at the Palgong mountain center to receive their Level One certification which results in a significant pay raise. One part of this course is a required 36 hours of native English teacher instruction. That's where I come in. The six native teachers each taught six classes to six groups of 9-11 teacher-students.

Last year's organizer seemed better prepared and asked us each to conduct lessons with a different focus (such as Reading, Listening, Speaking, etc), and I elected to teach Writing. My master's degree is in writing with a focus on pedagogy, so I'm pretty well qualified to teach it to others at this point. Also, of all the aspects of English taught and studied in Korea, writing is the area that gets the least attention. (Perhaps 10-12 years ago, speaking would have been considered more neglected, but now with so many native teachers in hagwons and public schools teaching conversation classes, it's definitely writing).

People still graduate with degrees in English Education and English Literature from good universities in Korea without ever having had to write an essay in English. Furthermore, Korean students often don't even study writing in their native language. Few high school teachers assign essays, and even fewer bother with basics like the writing process or things like structure and idea development.

But, I digress.

This year, they didn't ask us to consult with each other, so I was the only teacher who chose a focused topic (not just a general conversation class with cool, fun activities you can do to help students practice speaking with each other). I was also the only one who chose to assign homework. I felt a little sorry for the trainees because I knew the teachers had a lot of other projects/work to complete for their seminar, but I pitched it to them as an opportunity to practice their English writing and I promised that as hard as they worked on any of their writing assignments, I would work just as hard to give them feedback on their work.

I structured the class better than last year, considering what went well and what could be improved; focusing more on practical implementation of teaching writing in the classroom and assessing/commenting on student writing because that's what had been requested the year before. I worked hard, staying up late at night reading essays and commenting. I thought the class was going pretty well, even though the students had been nervous about the workload initially.

However, the outcome of my final assignment (which was the same as last year) shocked me. I gave the student/teachers the last 15 minutes of class to compose a thank you letter to one of their six native teachers. I asked them to choose someone whose class had particularly inspired them or where they felt they learned something useful.

Last year, the students divided it up pretty evenly between the six teachers, so that each of us got a handful of letters. Actually, I think that although William tells me that he and I got the highest ratings last year, I received the fewest letters (mostly because I assigned them to write it, I think). This year, one third of the students chose to write to me. It was overwhelming. And moving. Especially because I felt that the set of native teachers this year was overall much superior to last year's teachers.

I mean, I don't teach to be the most popular and well-liked teacher. In fact, I frequently make pedagogical decisions that I know will be unpopular with my students because I want to challenge them. I'm even ok with being hated, if students find this necessary (because, for example, I make them write essays or do critical thinking). I'm not used to students appreciating my methods in the moment--at best, I usually get the thanks the following year when they come back and tell me how English is "so easy" now because of what they learned in my class.

So as much as teaching the English teachers at my school drained me, this set of eager, inspired teachers has taught me that I can be of some value to other English teachers. I am renewed.

But still, nagging at the back of the mind, is the failure. I've given up--I asked William to change classes with me for next year. I will take the non-English teachers he's been teaching, and he will get the English teachers. In my entire six years in this profession, I have never before given up on students.

I truly hope that William can succeed where I have failed. If he does, maybe I can finally learn what I did wrong. Perhaps I should try to be more likable, as one of my teacher-students suggested (although he appreciated my class, he found me scary at first), or attractive (which is often listed by Koreans as the #1 important quality in a teacher--my eyes always roll when I hear otherwise intelligent people say this). Maybe I just couldn't read through their indirect communication about their expectations for the class.

All I know is that by the end of this whole thing, I feel like the previous native teacher was onto something with showing TV sitcoms and discussing them. It would have been a whole lot easier to do that and the end results would probably have been nearly identical.

Fugly.

Our students voted to have uniforms next year. Normally Korean school uniforms (at the high school level) are super-cute three piece suits (skirts for the girls and slacks for the boys). However, our principal seemed to have decided to give students a choice between fugly and fuglier. All the teachers were making jokes about how the young men will look like ajosshis (middle aged Korean men) and the girls were very angry because the uniforms don't include skirts. Check out the "winter" options for yourself.

I'm a little sad for my kids because they so badly wanted something they could wear with pride to let other students know they belonged to one of the top two high schools in the city. Now they'll just look a little preppy. And rather frumpy.

Like being in jail.

This weekend I'll be once again locked away for three days writing/proofreading/recording the entrance exam for my school. This is to prevent me making mucho dinero by selling it to potential test takers or hagwons (this happened a few years ago, which is why the rest of us must suffer no internet/cell phones for three days).

Last year it was three full days of the white foreigner's plight--to be constantly watched and commented on, but not interacted with; to be both never alone and yet very lonely and isolated. I can take this treatment for about 8 hours before shutting down completely...

This year, there are more people who will be with us than just our school's English teachers, so I anticipate this situation to be even more exaggerated. And while last year's vice principal was accommodating of my vegetarianism and very well organized, I don't know how the current VP will manage the weekend.

I'm hoping it will be ok.

Tell you in three days.

Korean "Core Values"

I've blogged about my American Culture co-teaching class this year multiple times. It's been a big challenge for me, since I'm not really trained as a social studies teacher, but also the class I've learned the most from teaching this year.

In class, we've been using a textbook, American Ways: An Introduction to American Culture by Maryanne Kearny Datesman, JoAnn Crandall, and Edward N. Kearny, that asserts three basic "core values" that traditionally all Americans share and value and three consequences of those values that also have become essential defining characteristics of American culture. Although not all-encompassing, I believe that they are a fair assessment of traditional American ideology.

The values are individual freedom, equality of opportunity, and the pursuit of material wealth (I would probably call this "prosperity," as the American Dream is not exclusively about materialism, but whatever) and the three American traits that stem from these values are self-reliance, competition, and hard work, respectively. Say what you will and feel free to disagree, but most Americans (myself included) hold most of these values near and dear--especially individual freedom and self-reliance.

Throughout the year we have studied how these values help us understand the features of American culture, such as religion, family, education, and diversity. It's been a nice framework for the students because it was a way to connect each individual unit together (something not commonly done in Korean courses where students tend to memorize for a test and then promptly forget everything they've learned). Sometimes we've had to introduce new values (such as "can-do" optimism and inventiveness), but generally they were either not as essential to the American character or they were not really as universal for Americans.

The last chapter in the text deals with the future of these values (which have, of course, changed slightly from how they were originally conceived) and modern challenges to America (such as health care and illegal immigrants). Reflecting on the idea that one of the main reasons to study another culture is to learn about our own, I asked the students this week to come up with Korea's "Core Values."

I was impressed. These kids have moved from thinking about Korean culture in terms of "kimchi" and "hangeul" at the beginning of the year, to being able to express and reasonably explain in a very thoughtful, critical way the main precepts that create the Korean identity. This week, I've learned a lot about Korean culture from these bright budding young sociologists and anthropologists--some things I already knew, but hadn't really found a clear way to express. For example, this post from a little over a year ago sums up a lot of my thoughts along these lines.

So, from the mouths of babes, here are some of the core values they identified, along with my attempt to re-create their explanation of it:

1. Confucianism/Neo-Confucianism -- The influence of Confucian values, such as respecting elders (they often called this a separate value of "Politeness" or "Courtesy," defining relationships (and the obligations within that relationship) clearly and hierarchically, and the prizing of scholarship as a mark of success were all cited by students as part of Korean values from the Joseon dynasty and could be a problem in the 21st century as the population ages (due to a low birth rate).

2. Sense of Community/Jeong (정, hanja: 情)/Cooperation -- This concept, students explained, comes from Korea's agricultural roots where the community would share their land to grow food and divide food according to the needs of the families in the community. In modern times, students pointed out that this leads to Korean people actively seeking group relationships and maintaining these networks with great care and that, if taken too far, sometimes creates the pervasive regionalism in politics and tendency for companies to only ever hire graduates of one or two universities. (Although many students were quick to point out that South Korea is NOT Communist, I do think that perhaps the existence of this concept in both Koreas' histories probably provided some fertile ground for Marxist ideals back in the 40s and 50s.)

3. Patriotism/Korean National Identity -- This is one of the more modern values they identified, although many students also connected it back to Confucianism. Like #2 where Koreans value group identity, they see the nation of Korea (well, South Korea... and sometimes if the political rhetoric suits the occasion, unified Korea) as one big group. Therefore, the successes and failures of each Korean personally affects Koreans more than it might other nationalities. This value was blamed for the homogeneity and racism that sometimes manifest here, but also cited as inspiring the unparalleled national and economic development of South Korea over the last 60 years.

Other contenders for a "core value" were: Education Fever/Eagerness (one student argued that this might come from a false belief that education means equal opportunity), The Faster the Better (빨리 빨리)/Convenience, Diligence/Hard Work, Conservatism/Traditions/Love for "Original" Things, and Family/Child-centered.

Not the work of a Ph.D. scholar, but not bad for high school kids in a 20 minute discussion group.

In strangely related news, the Korean expat blogosphere (yes, this is a thing that actually exists... like some grotesque hybrid between real blogging and the insanity that is Korean internet culture, which I briefly discussed in this post), has been a-twitter with the proposal by one politician to require a Korean culture class for foreign teachers issued an E-2 visa. If you are curious about the issue and subsequent "netizen" attempts to blow this issue out of all proportion, I recommend Brian's entry about the subject.

Perhaps we should enlist my students to write the curriculum.

It's hard to be thankful this year...

...when you got diagnosed with an incurable disease.

(I am thankful that my health is recovering).

...when your fiance leaves you alone in a foreign country on a holiday because he's having dinner with co-workers, and you're lonely and sad.

(I am thankful for Min Gi--truly, he's amazing).

...when your family has faced more than their fair share of health crises this year.

(I am thankful my dad is now cancer-free and mom is recovering from both of her September surgeries).

...when you get hit on the head with a plastic gavel by one of your favorite, but highly misguided students who lost his mock-trial case for lack of preparation.

(I am thankful for my job which makes me laugh).

...when the world economy crashes and ruins your plans to get out of debt once and for all.

(I am thankful the Korean economy is recovering and the exchange rate is finally more reasonable).

Yes, guys... it's been a rough year. I remain hopeful that with a marriage in January, awesome honeymoon in February, and a big repatriation adventure for August and beyond, 2010 will leave me with a lot more to be thankful for. Don't get me wrong, I AM grateful for the good things in my life, but darnit... it can be tough sometimes.

Debates... and homoerotic amusement.

This week my American Culture students have completed their final projects for second semester--a debate in English on one of four current controversial topics in America: same-sex marriage, affirmative action, standardized education, and health care reform. They've been researching their topics in groups of three or four for a couple months and preparing for the debates. Part of what I HOPED they would learn was the spirit of American discourse--the ability to argue ideas freely and fiercely, but then go back to being friends again later.

Trouble is, Korean students are both too competitive AND too cooperative for assignments like this. They hate working in groups because they think it'll make their individual grade go down (the worst students refuse to participate in the project and just study individually for the test and end up with the same grade as their group members having put in no work--you have to design group projects to work against this tendency), but at the same time, once you get them to work together, they don't want to compete in teams. My co-teacher and I have worked all year to get these kids to value cooperative learning and group projects. So now they do. Great! However, it caused one kind of unexpected problem.

About half of our students worked WITH their opposing team to script the whole debate, including points-of-information (POIs are moments where you interject a question or a point into the other team's assertions to get their response) and counter-arguments. It wasn't bad, it was just... not a debate.

Overall, though, they did a great job. And they were (rightfully) very proud of themselves for this accomplishment. It's not easy to have a debate in your native language, let alone in in a foreign language. Especially in a culture where open conflict is kind of considered rude. I'm very proud of them.

***

In my conversation classes, William and I have been grading our final projects--a powerpoint presentation for the first graders and a mock trial for the second graders. So far, the powerpoint presentations have been ok--great powerpoints, not so great on the presentation skills. The mock trials, however, have been hilarious. The kids are putting students at school on trial for possible school infractions (cheating and bullying) and have made evidence and played witnesses and lawyers as they try to convince their peers of a classmate's guilt or innocence.

The funniest moment was when a young man in the Chinese major class who was playing the roommate of the defendant (accused of cheating) was being cross examined:

Lawyer: Please describe your relationship with the defendant.
Witness: We are roommates.
Lawyer: Are you close?
Witness: Sure. We sleep together. (The whole class starts to chuckle) And we... take a shower together! (Everyone bursts into laughter)

Thing is, I don't think the kid understood what that sounds like. In the dorms, they have locker-room style showers, and he probably meant that they sleep in the same room, but you know... when your language skills are imperfect... it just sounds funny.

Some days, I love my job.

...and, apparently, mood swings.

I blogged last time about how I'm struggling with the vanity effects of prednisone and moonface (fat gained in the cheeks and neck). I think the psychological effects of this crappy med might be kicking in, as well.

No joke. I walk in to work today, and my boss who sits next to me looks at me, laughs, touches her cheeks (to indicate the enormous size of my own) and says, "These days you look so cute. Like a baby!" Then she laughs some more.

I nearly punched her in the face. See how she likes some "cute" black eyes.

I could have danced all night...

... well, not really.

I went OUT last night. It was the seventh anniversary party for Swing and People and my foot was feeling up to walking without the cane, so I got dolled up and headed downtown for THE swing event in Daegu. I will update with pictures when my friend posts them to the club website.

And it was awesome. Just connecting with people again. Made me feel human. I even was able to dance to a few slow/medium pace songs and didn't die. It felt great.

Today my muscles are punishing me a bit for the workout I gave them, but that's ok 'cause I'm stuck grading and planning five million things for work. My foot still seems ok. I can walk, albeit slowly and with a small amount of pain. I will continue the soaking/heating/massage routine over the next week as I (hopefully) regain full function of my limbs. I do, on the plus side, now seem to have pretty good control over my bowels.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll be back to my old, active self by the time my wedding rolls around in two months.

Here's hoping!

Ongoing Medical Drama

Grey's Anatomy ain't got nothing on me. Seriously, my first week back at work, and I went every day, taught all my classes, and even taught the extra three high school gifted classes that I missed while I was in the hospital. Peachy.

However, my body is broken. Some of the effects of the medications I'm on from my hospitalization include extreme muscle fatigue. So towards the beginning of this week, walking was difficult. Apparently so difficult that by Wednesday afternoon, I'd developed a case of tendinitis in my foot so bad, that I couldn't walk.

So Thursday (after confirming at the hospital it wasn't broken and getting some advice from the orthopedic guy) and Friday, I hobbled around school and my neighborhood with the assistance of the prop cane from the student theater festival competition.

That's right... I have a disease that makes it hard to control my bowel movements and now I'm sporting a cane.

Dammit... I'm like 90 years old.

More rest this weekend. Such an exciting life I lead. Perhaps I will one day climb out from under this backlog of work (grading) that missing two weeks of school and then being unable to walk and therefore too exhausted to think will cause, but I have my doubts about that.

Hope your lives are more pleasant.

I'm boring, but I'm not bored

(Try explaining the above sentence to EFL students.)

My life has become dull and boring these days as I rest up and try to heal. On the plus side, I'm bonding with my kitties and fully caught up on Desperate Housewives. Then, on the downside, I have very little to write about and less energy to do it.

However, I am really excited about some upcoming projects I'm working on for my classes with William. Our last effort turned into the school's first English Theater Festival, which made the school look really good, so we've pretty much been allowed to do whatever we want with our classes since then. Within some limits (mostly placed by my least favorite person at the school, who is unfortunately also the most powerful).

I hope when I get a job in the U.S. next year I enjoy my co-workers as much as I do at this school. I've been pretty lucky in all three teaching jobs I've worked in that I had good people I could count on--both friends and bosses. Not everyone is so lucky.

"Helpful" Advice/ Meeting 고모.

Sangju (상주), a rural town in western Gyeongsangbuk-do.

Last week at work:

"I'm going to Min Gi's hometown, Sangju, this weekend."

"Oh wow! That is so exciting. And important. Who will you meet there?" The teacher who sits next to me, Ms. Suh (who is also my boss), is unnaturally excited for my marriage and asks me questions about it every two days. She has even commented how strange it is for her to be so happy for me, but yet, we continue.

"I'm meeting 고모 [father's sister]."

Ms. Suh gets a very serious look. "Oh my, that is a very important meeting. Is she older or younger than your fiance's father?"

"Older, I think." (I have no idea. I found out later that she is younger than his father would be, were he alive today.)

"Hm... and all of his male relatives [Editor's note: they only count father's side as relatives in Korea] from that generation are dead? Oh, then this is the most important meeting. 고모 is not like 이모 [mother's sister]. 고모 is very important. I hope you are not nervous!" She then proceeds to ask me a hundred questions I don't know the answers to, like if 고모 has any children and if we'll be meeting in her house.

No, I'm not nervous at all, now, Ms. Suh. Thanks.

***

I call Min Gi shortly after this (interrogation) conversation and drill him. He is patient and for all the questions he doesn't know the answer to, he says, "I will call her after I hang up with you and find out." What a darling.

But all the things the teachers at school tell me about Korean weddings and Korean men are starting to get to me.

Mrs. Lim: "Are you going to prepare money and gifts for his family? Most women have to pay a lot of money to their in-laws before getting married, like $3,000. And if you get your in-laws the wrong present, they will 'tease' you about it at every holiday forever. Korean mother-in-laws never let you forget your mistake."

Mrs. Kim: "Oh Korean men are very sweet when they are dating, but after marriage they change. They don't want to do any nice things for you and expect you to do all the cooking and cleaning perfectly for them. Really, you won't know until after you're married."

Mrs. Park: "Your families won't meet until one week before the wedding? Oh, that is very bad luck."

Mrs. Choi: "Korean men all drink too much. My husband is out most nights drinking. He doesn't spend much time with his sons."

AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!! *head explodes*

So when my dear, sweet, atypical Korean guy walks in the door Sunday morning, ready to take me to meet his 고모, and makes the mistake of commenting on the cat vomit I hadn't yet cleaned (too busy getting ready), I snap and unload all of this manufactured angst onto his unsuspecting head.

Somewhere in the middle of my insane meltdown/freak-out, he sits down on the couch and says, "Hey, come here." After I refuse, he insists.

He puts his arms around me and looks into my eyes, "Why are you listening to those women? They don't know me. They don't know my family. If I tell you that you don't need to give my mom money, then that's it, she doesn't expect it. When I tell you I'm not going to change after we get married, you have to believe me. I believe you. I trust you. You have to listen to me.

"Ok?"

I start to laugh, even though I'm still crying. "How did you get to be so smart?"

"Let's go meet my aunt!"

***

Turns out 고모 is not a frightening matriarch, but rather a kind, worldly woman who, unable to have her own children with her husband, lavishes her motherly love, attention, and wisdom on her nieces and nephews. Over delicious raw fish, we chatted about life, my family, our plans, and she offered us lots of advice about marriage, like not going to bed angry and being forgiving of each other if we make a mistake. She was not intimidated by the fact that I was a foreigner nor was she overly curious about it, merely thoughtful and accepting. I couldn't have imagined a better outcome for our first encounter.

고모 shares the last of the 자두 on her farm.

I think, through her, I can see some of the positive qualities Min Gi has described his father as having, qualities that he also possesses to make others feel at ease and to understand the world and its people in comprehensive and respectful ways. I love her already.

Min Gi and I pose in front of the scenic Nakdong River.

After (a very filling) lunch, she offered to play tour guide for us around Sangju. We went to a temple known for it's ancient wood carvings on the inside of the main temple, Namjeongsa, then to 고모's small farm for fresh Korean plums (자두), and finally to the small walking park near the Nakdong river. One of Min Gi's older cousins drove and the four of us had a lovely time out in the Korean countryside.

The iron Buddha is surrounded by the painted ancient wood carvings at the temple's inner altar.

The weather was perfect and the company was grand. Check out all of the photos in the album:

Sangju--Meeting Min Gi's Relatives

New Apartment!!!

Ok, so I mentioned last week that I have moved into the future love-nest of Min Gi and I (he's moving in more slowly--for example, his car, computer, and some of his decorations live here, but not his clothes yet; he wants to ease his mom off of having to do his laundry). It's a two-bedroom apartment near my school. Ok, actually it's just across the road from my school, like about one minute from my front door to my office. This has distinct advantages in terms of convenience, but if you recall that TFLHS is a boarding school, this does lead to some awkward moments coming back from my early yoga class and whatnot.

Anyhow, I love this apartment. I love the layout and the landlord and the size and everything! Inspired by Danielle, I have decided to give you a video tour. I have learned I'm not cut out for video blogging, but whatever. Enjoy: