"See you next time, bye bye!"

The title of this post is dedicated to the scripted close of every English Broadcast I have (airing Wednesday mornings at 9am through my whole school). I love and hate this greeting because often students will use it in a caricature-ish fashion to say goodbye to me. However, when I found myself faced with my last week of regular classes, I found I couldn't say "goodbye" and opted for this cliche'd expression instead, much to the delight of my students.

 My lucky penny idea went off without a hitch. In fact, many teachers also wanted their own 'lucky penny'. It's a full-blown fad over here at Yaksa Elementary! I also found the whole venture to be somewhat lucrative:

Fortunately the only person to openly cry my last week was me (hidden in my office of course!... crying is for wimps and losers!*), although I did have a lot of dejected-looking kids come up to me, or, with furrowed brow, ask me if they would see me next week. No matter how much I explained I still have a few weeks at Yaksa, the 'last class' thing really got to them.

The great thing about being a kid is that what seems sad now will be forgotten in a matter of minutes or days. Sure, they will remember me, but once the buzz of summer vacation hits (and then shortly after, the new foreign teacher comes), they won't be sad anymore.

Some of my students asked for my email. I gave it to them and have already received two in my inbox.

This one made me particularly happy that I didn't give all my students an email address to contact. I want to be able to respond properly to these kids if they get in touch, instead of feeling overwhelmed with a short burst of 'fan mail' I never reply to.

Lastly, one thing I worked really hard to do was have some Yaksa students sign a t-shirt for me. I started this process about 3 weeks ago, bringing in a plain white tee and asking kids to write whatever they wanted, or draw pictures, too. Signing t-shirts is not common in Korea (unless you are a celebrity autographing one), so my students found this to be really fun and special, and I felt the same knowing secretly that it was a parting gift they were making for me. By the end things got pretty detailed:

I still have 4 weeks left in Korea: 1 devoted to deskwarming (creative posts sure to follow this week!); 1 for Yaksa camp; 2 for low-level classes. However, with regular classes out of the way, things are definitely starting to wrap up.

So as they (and by 'they' I mean 'I') say, "See you next time... bye bye!"

-Laura Teacher



*This is just what I told myself while holding a fan to my face so I can get to the next class without tearing up. I'm my own emotion ninja.

Don't be afraid.

Living in a crowded city, you're bound to hear all kinds of noises at night. Traffic. Cats fighting. Drunken serenades. I myself have suspicions of the world's largest copier/washing machine/wave-making bed/ iron lung that resides in the apartment above me and makes a strange yet monotonous sound all night long. These things we put up with because we live in a city of millions.

However, there are some things we should not put up with.

Tonight I heard some men yelling outside my bathroom window, which faces an alley. Normally I wouldn't think much of it, but after about 15 minutes it was more than noticable, and I realized that other neighbors were stepping outside to tell the two men to pipe down. As I tried to peer through the incredibly tall window, a third voice came on the scene-- a woman's-- and that's when things started to get really ugly. I couldn't understand everything, but she was yelling "Stop it! Stop it! Don't do that!" in Korean, and the men's voices only seemed to be escalating.

I was a little more than disturbed, and a little more than a LOT bothered by the fact that I felt powerless to call for help.

I was encouraged by another rad traveler (whom I happened to be talking to at the time) to call the police anyway. 112 is the number for the Ulsan Police, and although there weren't any people on staff at the time for English, we made it work. By the time the police got to the area, the scene had calmed down (which homefully is evidence that the fight also ended, but I'm not sure).

My main point, to whoever is involved or wherever you are, is to not be afraid to call. Even though the officer only knew how to say "policeman" to me, we worked with what we could and I was really impressed to see them respond so well, and so fast (and so patiently as I stumbled over myself in broken Korean).

You can do this, too. And although we know it's the 'right' thing to do, it's often overlooked at how it's not the 'easy' thing to do. When it comes down to it, no matter our reasoning for adhering to the Bystander's Effect, the bottom line is this: if you don't do it, who will?

The Business Trip.

I made this on xtranormal.com last night to summarize the typical 'Oh, so you want to leave school during your working hours?' conversation.



You can find other xtranormal videos about teaching in Korea on youtube as well, made by many a perplexed Guest English Teacher just trying to cope with humor.

Hope in sight for all us veggies in a veggie-less world.

Among the laundry list of things that makes me different from Koreans is the fact that I came here vegetarian.

..."came here vegetarian" being the operative phrase.

I found it really difficult to go by without eating meat here. Even things that seem to not have meat in them will often come with diced ham or other little shreds of beef. I can't tell you how many times I've had this conversation with a local (in both English and Korean):

Me: Does this have meat in it?


Waiter/co-teacher/Shop owner: No, do you want meat?


Me: No. Please no meat. I don't eat meat.


Waiter/co-teacher/Shop owner:  ...................


Me: (pointing to menu or saying the name of the dish over and over and making a huge 'X' symbol with my arms) This, meat, no. Meat, no. Meat... NO.


Waiter/co-teacher/Shop owner: Ok, ok.

... and 15 minutes later, I have a wonderful dish of meat-filled food.

My reasoning for not eating meat is multi-faceted, but the main pillar is because of factory farming (by the way, if you are reading this and haven't watched Food Inc. yet, you are virtually and morally obligated to do so by the end of the week). I asked my co-teachers about what countries export their meat to Korea, and was disappointed to find that the US is on this list. In short: the factory-farmed meat I want to avoid in the States is now travelling a further distance than before, makng it even less sustainable than it already was.

Although I do know (and seriously commend) a few vegetarians living here as foreign teachers, the fact is that, for me, I would be less comfortable eating absolutely NO meat because of my school staff and Korean friends. Sometimes, there is no meat-less option, and at least by eating chicken I have the ability to chew on something whilst sitting around with those who have a full pallete to work with. This is not my country. For me, it just seems polite.

A bummer? Sure. I would rather be vegetarian. And sometimes I even feel a little frustrated about what I  can only refer to as being "force-fed meat" (see the example conversation, above). But sometimes that's part of cultural competency, especially in a professional atmosphere. It wasn't a choice I was thrilled about, but since I have only been vegetarian for a couple years, it was a change my body could make to better adapt to the life I have here.

However, I did find this yesterday, through a fellow foreign teacher, and thought it was definitely worth sharing:

Aeris Kitchen is a recipe blog that has a Korean cooking component for [lacto ovo] vegetarian dishes. Despite the content of this post, I do want to make it clear that there are vegetarian options here on occasion, and they are pretty basic (and thus easy to make). Aeris Kitchen makes it easy to find and re-create vegetarian Korean dishes, whether you are living abroad or back at home. I know I'll be using it when I go back to the States.

UPDATE ON THE VEGGIE FRONT: I don't know what to say, but after TEN months of being at my school and eating in the cafeteria daily, today my co-teacher decided to tell the lunch ladies I don't eat meat. Today. Right before I went to publish this blog post. I had just been eating around the meat and giving the extra to the school staff (very Korean, I know), but now the lunch ladies are replacing my meat with extra veggies. On today of all days. Sometimes, the 'ask and you shall receive' thing totally applies.

What keeps me coming back.

This week, I sent my first box home. Things I don't need here: winter clothes, souvenirs; maybe even some things I will end up donating upon arrival in Seattle (which makes the value of those donations, thoeoretically, way higher because of shipping costs!... but I digress). Two more boxes sit in my apartment now, open but empty. It is a constant reminder to me of my looming departure. There's excitement as well as sadness; hope as well as anxiety. All in all, it's a happy thing. I may not always like change but boy do I love packing.

It wasn't easy, though-- getting to this point. For those of you who aren't famliar with the system here, my 1-year contract is up for renewal in August. To give the Metropolitan Office of Education enough time to fill my place, they needed to know if I was renewing or not by mid-May. I've never had such a difficult time giving someone a "yes" or "no" answer (and for those of you who really know me, you know that's saying a lot). Nay, there were many times I flip-flopped, debated, and utterly freaked out (which, sadly, happened at least twice). I try to refrain from outright asking for advice; however, I found myself in desperate need of some. Friends and family alike had their take on how to make the call.

Some people suggested a healthy dialog.

Others thought I should make a list.

Some even suggested flipping a coin to see how I felt about the outcome.

After trying everything, I almost found myself more lost than before. I talked myself in circles and flipped a variety of coins (for some reason I thought the type of coin might make a difference), all to no avail. And the list part-- MY typical default-- was the worst one yet! On the "Pros" side were the important, hard-hitting and adult-type aspects:

job security
housing security
relatively low cost of living
amazing health care
continue learning a language
continue traveling

Wow. Well that's the way to shove me out the door.

This is a dillemma that many a Guest English Teacher face in Korea. The fact is that, despite our complaining and serious confusion in this culture at times, the Korean government has made it almost too enticing to leave, especially in this economic climate. That's why many of us stay here after a year, whether we had planned to or not. It attracts all types: people who are trying to save money; couples who want to work and travel; legitimate teachers (the rarer breed); and party-hearty die-hards who can reconcile their lifestyle in a culture that accepts them as both an educator and as a drunken fool.

With all that said, many people ask me why I decided to leave Korea after only 1 year.

I often get asked this question as if there must be something wrong with my situation, like I got shafted on the school/principal combination, or I finally snapped after eating kimchi every day.

The best way to describe why I'm leaving is this: it's about love.

"Love, like truth and beauty, is concrete. Love is not fundamentally a sweet feeling; not, at heart, a matter of sentiment, attachment, or being 'drawn toward.' Love is active, effective, a matter of making reciprocal and mutually beneficial relation with one's friends and enemies.

Love creates righteousness, or justice, here on earth."  --Carter Heyward

We all have to listen to our inner voice. Sometimes the voice inside of us is really loud, and it shouts for us to do something. But sometimes it's quiet and small. That doesn't take away from its value, or mean we can ignore it. We just need to listen closer in order to understand what it's trying to tell us.

The love I have inside of me is to affect change for those who need it. It's not the kind of thing that fills me with rom-com joy, or has a 'happily ever after' tacked onto the end. It's not even something I think could lull me to sleep at night. In fact, that voice screams at me daily to get up and do something for others. But the voice that prompted me to go back to the States was small and scared, because starting over-- even at home-- is difficult.

I was afraid, for a time, that going home meant I was failing myself, like I wasn't able to live across the world alone. What I ended up realizing, after a million coin tosses, 2 lists and an emergency international call to my parents, is that it takes just as much courage to follow your passions at home as it does if you're on the other side of the world.

And now that I know, doesn't that make every day an adventure?

What happens when you take a vegetarian to Korean barbeque?

Okay, so I know this sounds like the opening line to a joke.

And those awaiting a punchline will not be disappointed... because what happened last night was definitely comical, if not utterly embarrassing.
After a class field trip (Cheen-gu came along, of course) to Jeongju Hanok Village and Geumsan Temple (my elementary school-self was happy about this... we even got snacks on the bus!), a small group of us decided to ditch the cafeteria and go out to dinner. Aside from our bus trip, this outing is the first time most of us had really stepped off campus to do anything fun... orientation alone has been keeping us pretty busy!

We arrived at the restaurant two of our friends had seen a couple days before and suggested, only to find that it was Korean barbeque. This brought one of my personal dillemmas to the forefront, because I had been wondering this whole time if I, being a vegetarian, would be able to eat anything at a place like this. This was actually one of the most commonly-asked questions I got before leaving: "Will you be trying Korean barbeque?"

So this issue was bound to come up sooner or later.We decided to go inside, understanding that I might be swiping pieces of lettuce off people's plates for my main course. Of course, we were also banking on the fact that the menu might have some pictures on it. No such luck. Stuck in a Korean barbeque with virtually no knowledge of the Korean language, no readable menu, and me with my special needs... we defaulted to the foreigners we saw in the restaurant, and enlisted their help.

This resulted in one of the most awkward experiences I've had to date.

Emily approached the table of foreigners, asking them for help in ordering a 'no meat' or 'fish' option (yes; I did shamefully sit at our table and watch from a distance). This resulted in some weird expressions, and soon the servers approached the table.

Soon our fellow foreigners and the Korean servers were in what appeared to be a discussion over why someone would willingly come to a barbeque when they don't even eat meat. If that wasn't enough, they all began pointing at me from across the restaurant so we could clear up this debacle. It was hard not to sink in my chair from this point on, especially when they came over and laughed at me when I verified that, no, I didn't eat meat but was willing to eat anything else. That fact in itself scared be because I had no idea what they would bring out.

In the end, I ended up with a cold noodle dish (which looks really strange but actually tasted quite good):


While my friends cooked their dinner:


So what happens when you take a vegetarian to Korean barbeque?

I don't know, exactly. But put out a video camera.

Notes from 40,000 feet.

I finally made it to Korea, after many trials and challenges (and blessings). Here is a note from the very sleep-deprived me, writing on the flight to Seoul:

The last 48 hours have been full of every kind of emotion and as I sit on the plane I still can’t wrap my mind around what I am about to do. It’s too big to handle, and every time I think about the realities of my life now-- the biggest, most life-changing decision I’ve made for myself in a long time-- overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to describe it. So let’s stick with the present. Here’s a blow-by-blow of the amazing(ly horrendous) schedule Emily and I have been keeping lately… not because you NEED to know all the detail, but because this is pretty hilarious, and in some ways: kind of impressive.

Tuesday, August 17th
7:30am- Met at SeaTac airport. The plan at that point was to fly to San Francisco and catch the international flight to Seoul (capitol of South Korea) that night.
8:30am- Goodbyes to the parents and security lines later, we were on our way to the N gates.
10:00am- All hell broke loose. Due to the President’s visit to Washington that day, no planes were allowed to fly between 9:30am and 11:30am. Our plane was scheduled to leave SeaTac in this time, of course, which also meant we would miss our connection to South Korea that day. Shoot.
10:04am- Panic ensued as Emily and I rearranged our flights, ran through our terminal with jumbled bags, and listened to about 135098 people give their best performances to those poor customer service agents. Not that we were all that happy, either. But seeing other people get in a huff reminded us to be nice… or, nicer.
11:30am- With our flight rescheduled, Emily and I made the decision to just stay in the airport and rough it.
11:45am- Rode the inter-airport tram a few times around, just because we were sleep deprived and needed something to cheer us up. In retrospect this doesn’t sound like much, but I remember us laughing. A lot. Met a sassy older woman coming back from Palm Springs look pretty fashionable, so we had a chat. I love seeing elderly women in little black dresses.
12pm- I napped on a table in the food court. The sonic booms from the President’s fighter jets woke me up. I have to say I’m thankful nobody in the airport wanted to know what I thought of the President that day.
1pm- We made camp in the C gates. Two guys with their police dogs were waiting to go to Alaska. These huge, beautiful dogs ride on the flight and-- get this-- the police officers have to try to keep them sitting on the floor in between their legs on the flight over. In case you’re wondering, it’s basically impossible. I got a good laugh out of this.
2pm- We scored a spot on the floor underneath some phone booths. Good news: 2 outlets. Bad news: Dorito crumbs everywhere. We took the prime location over the mess.

Between 2pm and 2am everything is kind of a blur and can only recount the cheese-pesto pizza I had for dinner, my Skype sessions, a little Hulu-ing, and the 20 minute nap I took on the floor. We figured after everyone cleared out of the airport it would get quieter, but it did just the opposite. The quietest part of our terminal was this mother and daughter (2 years old, I later found) who were flying to Arizona in the morning. They’re originally from Thailand so this was definitely a point of interest in my travel book, as I‘m still enamored by that country. We made friends with them which allowed all of us to watch one another’s bags when needed. I still don’t know how that little girl slept through industrial-sized vaccuums, MSNBC blasting, and other random inexplicable airport noise. I know I couldn’t.

Wednesday, August 18th
2am- Emily and I took a stroll to go get some coffee. As in both of us drank some. For those of you who know me well, you know I do NOT drink coffee under virtually any circumstance. But with our vow to stay up all night to help adjust us to Korean time, it was definitely necessary. This was, of course, followed by a photo shoot in the airport. Because we were feeling pretty insane by that point.
3am- A small boy threw a temper tantrum in our terminal. For about an hour. It became upsetting to listen to, mostly because the mom didn’t know what to do, was obviously at her wit’s end, and was obviously tempted to become aggressive with her child. Oh, and she wouldn’t move to another, less-populated area. So that in itself was disturbing.
4:15am- Finally, the little girl sleeping next to us with her mom decided to befriend Emily and I through a dance party. Tumbling, twirling, and Emily’s rad DJ’ing skills included.
5:30am- Waited for our flight to San Fran. I had personally hit the 24-hours-without-sleep mark at this point.
6:30-8:30am- The biggest fog of a flight I had ever been on. Asleep before everyone was even seated.

Fast forward to 1pm, and we finally ran into some other EPIK teachers, many of whom are on the flight I’m writing this blog on. It was nice to relate to other people’s stress about getting over to Korea, especially the paperwork. It’s pretty clear that everyone is confused about something, but we’re all just going for it. I knew the first month adjusting to Korean life would probably be the hardest, but now I’m beginning to define why. At least it’s nice to know that none of us are alone.

In case anyone is trying to figure out just HOW LONG we’ll have been traveling to get to our orientation, we’ll get to our orientation around 8am PST on August 19th (midnight in Korea, August 20th). The 48-straight hours of travel time is well worth it.

Our orientation, at Jeong-ju University (view from my window, above), will be last until the 26th of August. Between lectures, Korean movies, and meeting new people, I will have internet access and would love to talk to any of you! Please hit me up on Skype or Facebook anytime.

Sending love,
Laura

realities.

1. In 18 days, I will be in the air on my way to Korea.
This week, I secured a one-way flight (!) and acquired my visa to live in Korea for a year. It should make everything more real but for some reason I'm still in denial. Is it okay that I'm mostly excited for the movies on the international flight? I can't think too far past that right now. My head might explode.

2. Getting your teaching certificate online is a lot of work, but it's worth it.
I thought I was good at grammar before taking these classes. What I REALLY learned is that native English-speakers really take their language for granted. It's difficult at best to learn. But now that I've had these classes, despite loathing the English language before I even become a teacher, I feel prepared to teach any grade level now. My hope? 1st-2nd graders. Adorable.

3. I love learning Korean. But I don't know nearly enough.
Knowing the language isn't required to be a teacher in Korea, but I wanted to know some before leaving. Podcasts have been the most helpful. If you are ever interested in learning Korean, Youtube Korean101.com or find their podcasts in iTunes. I even took them on vacation with me and found it pretty easy to pick up.

4. My suitcase remains untouched because I'm scared to put everything in it.
It's hidden by a pile of clothes sitting in the corner of my room. And I don't even want to think about the extra things I'm going to need to get before leaving:

-lotion (because many lotions in Korea have skin-whitening agents in them)
-deodorant (because it's pretty uncommon in Korea)
-grammar book (for obvious reasons)
-watch with alarm (so I can still get up on time for orientation while I don't have a phone)

and probably some other things I haven't even thought of yet.

5. Ulsan is 16 hours ahead of Seattle time.
So if you ever want to know what tomorrow's going to look like, just ask me. Well maybe not.
But to find out what time it is in my corner of the world, you can

a) Guess.
b) Take your current time, add 4 hours and flip the am/pm (for people in PST only).
c) visit this link, which also includes a weather report. You can even search for other locations too, to keep up with all your friends around the world.

6. This is going to be a great adventure.
Enough said. And above any challenge or hesitance I know it's going to be worth it.