"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.

Not just the typical, "neener neener neener."

This morning, there was a pretty major incident in one of my 5th grade classrooms. Like any good Guest English Teacher, as soon as I made it to the Teacher's Room, I logged onto Facebook and sent out an SOS via status update into the virtual community:

Upon a first-read, the drama of the situation seems entertaining, almost. And with the language barrier I have between me and the students, it does seem comical to think about how I-- as 1 of 2 adults in the room-- had to sit there and witness the whole thing unfold without contributing whatsoever. Sure, it was scary, but hey, it's one for the books, right? Besides, nobody got hurt. Doesn't that mean we can laugh about it?

The interesting thing is: that's exactly what the students do. This boy had tuned out all verbal and physical commands (clearly just running on Id at this point); his actions, harmful to others and to himself, took learning off the list of priorities as the entire room was concerned for the safety of the group. However, the boys who held him down got up to do so as if it was routine. They grabbed him in big bear hugs and tolerated the kicking and jabbing coming from the perp while another appointed student dashed off to find the homeroom teacher. The rest of the students knew to stay clear.

All in all, it was a pretty organized affair.

What gets me about this situation is that is was so organized and casual, when this boy obviously has pent-up anger and quite possibly needs to see a counselor or use another program outside of public school to receive education. In short: the public school doesn't have enough resources to suit his needs.

This is a very common problem in Korea, as many Guest English Teachers can attest to. There is little the teachers can do, aside from talking to the parents about the issues. When I asked one of my Korean co-teachers about on-site counseling (like, if there is any), she said this (paraphrased):

"Of course. But many parents don't want to take their child [to the school counselor] because they don't want to think their child has a disease. What happened today, it's from a disease, but many parents won't accept that."

This cultural desire to be the same echoes throughout the public school system. Every child is expected to be the same in ability and performance. This is precisely why all subjects are taught by age group (grade), not level of ability. Thus, it's not uncommon to have children who are well above average in your class, bored to pieces; it's equally likely that you will have some students who are below average or dealing with behavioral disorders which have yet to be evaluated. 

And that makes for a pretty interesting class.

A friend of mine also opened my eyes to another perspective on the matter: bullying. Disorder or not, the kids who pick on each other and create fear within an individual or among a group should be considered a bully. Although I felt some sympathy to see the student from this morning return to the English Teachers' room crying his apology to us, I do consider him a threat to his classmates. I assumed, upon coming to Korea, that there would be less bullying here than in the States. However, it's becoming apparent to me that bullying is just as common here as anywhere else, and visa versa.

According to Jae-In Lee (n.d.) from a study on bullying in Korean public schools:

[Those who bullied], in particular-- those who bullied the weak[er-looking students, were] less mature and more distorted in the developmental stage. The students [who] bullied the weak needed to be counseled as much as the bullied.

In a society where success in education is everything, I hope that soon there will be more moderation in the realm of mental health for young children, not only for those who are victimzed by bullying, but for those who throw the first punch. Looking at outward, negative actions as a sign of deeper, unmet needs, and getting parents to accept their child as who they are as opposed to the mold they 'should' fit into could work wonders to relieve Korean students' stress and diminish unhealthy behavior.

And it would sure give those poor chairs a break from being thrown around my 5th grade classroom.

On being 'healthy', cont.

"My school English teacher is so kind and pretty and talented teacher... she like a snow white. But I am ugly. I'm sad. I want a laura teacher face."

I found this in my student's English diary today. She is an advanced student and has a special agreement with me where she writes journal entries and I correct them. She knew I would see this. And it breaks my heart.

This is not just a case of pre-teen self-consciousness. This student's sentiments are not a lone voice in South Korea. In fact, idolization of the 'Western image' has been creeping its way into Asia at an alarming rate for some years now, and having a scary effect on our world's children. Watch the following CNN video, broadcasted just last week, and you'll see what I mean.




I understand that the media has a massive effect on the way we view ourselves, but when it becomes so viral and downright vile that it threatens to wash away the uniqueness of other cultures and turn us into a singular, cloned version of Barbie, isn't it time we take another approach? I know it's easier said than done, but aren't the differences the very things we should be embracing about ourselves? And shouldn't cultures be proud of this, instead of trying to erase them?

At the end of the day, I'm still not sure what to write as a response in my student's diary, with exception of three words:

you are beautiful.

I can only hope that has some effect.

My students' notebooks are cuter than yours.

No, seriously; they are.

Any foreign teacher in Korea will tell you that the school supplies here are off-the-charts adorable. Usually when I walk around my classroom, my students get all nervous because I peer at their desk. They think I'm thoroughly checking their work, but it only takes approximately 0.7 seconds to proof-read, "Go straight and turn right." Nay, I am desperately trying to memorize their Konglish-riddled pencil cases and notebooks.

For those of you just tuning in, I'll elaborate. Depending on who you ask, 'Konglish' is a term referring to either
a) The Korean words that sound exactly like English ones (although this linguistically would be referred to as a dipthong)
or b) The poetic, romantic and completely incorrect English sentences crafted by Korean manufacturers and put all over t-shirts, billboards, and-- of course-- school supplies.

I've been wanting to snap some photos of the rare and beautiful[ly silly] Konglish notebooks for some time now, but it looks a little suspicious to whip out a camera and start taking pictures of merhandise in a store. However, while grading notebooks the other day, I realized I had the perfect opportunity in front of me, stacked 18 inches high.

So without further adieu:

 It may or may not come as a surprise that the phrase, "Let's go together" is incredibly common here...

so much so that I find myself using it in everyday conversation now. Oh boy.

Pictured on this notebook is a shot of the London Eye. Notebooks here often show cityscapes of famous locations around the world, and come complete with a caption that either a) was lifted directly from Wikipedia and is incomprehensible to most Korean schoolchildren, or b) has a lot of advanced English words, but is not applicable to every day English (pictured above).

"Special day!"... "How are you?"... "Love is a splendid thing"... what do all of these phrases have in common? Nothing, but the smiling ice cream doesn't seem bothered by that.

This caption's intent is supposed to be romantic, but kind of comes off a little stalker-esque.

That's right. People have to be redeemed redeemed. 

 Not related but really cute: my student wrote "over" at the end of their homework. I gave them a smiley.

Even Snoopy is not free from the powers of Konglish.

This one is actually pretty cute. It's a stunning example of all the times mushy love quotes go right on Korean notebooks. I can't tell you how many times I've seen "I'll wait for you forever" on a book, pencil, eraser (okay, maybe not an eraser; that would be kind of an oximoron).

The thing that amuses me is that, no matter how many jokes I make about these damn school supplies, I know I will be returning to the States with a box full of them.

For poop's sake.

This is a class schedule in one of the 5th grade classrooms, created by the female homeroom teacher. When I mentioned the irregularity (har har) of the theme this teacher chose, my co-teachers didn't seem to understand what I meant.

As someone who has probably spent too much time being distracted by this schedule when I teach in the classroom where it resides, allow me to point out some of the finer qualities you see here:

1. The vindictive look on the faces of each crazed child as they send turds raining from... well, you know where.


2. The color-coded pooplets. By the way, English class is red.


3. The squatter toilets! They don't make 'em like that in the States.

This post could easily branch out into an entire questioning rant about my confusion regarding Korea's obsession with turds. However, I'm going to leave it here, because there are really no answers to be found at the moment, and with each sentence I type I'm tempted to make some kind of joke about the digestive system. It's getting difficult to constipate. I mean, concentrate. It's getting difficult to concentrate.

Sheesh.

Confession.

It's not the teaching; it's the learning.

I'm a fraud of a teacher. Like many other foreign teachers, I did not come here to launch a career as an educator. And although it is an incredibly honorable profession, it's not giving me the sense of purpose I hear from so many professional teachers.

What keeps me in Korea is not the thrill of teaching. It's not in the pride I feel when a lesson plan I created is a hit. It's not the power of classroom management. It's not even the joy of seeing my students get A's on their English tests. I know my place in their learning process, and sadly my impact has little to do with exam performance.

What keeps me in Korea is the way my students love me.

This weekend, I am taking a mental and physical health break. I am wandering the streets of my neighborhood, remembering the feel of warm air and the sense of insecurity I felt when I first came to Ulsan. So much has changed, and I can definitely say feel at home here now.

But my self-development aside, what really brought some happiness to this otherwise (although seemingly necessary) bland weekend were the encounters I had with my students.

My recently-graduated 6th graders are probably the dearest to my heart, just because they were such difficult students at the end of the year, but being at the bottom of the totem pole in middle school has seemed to soften them up a bit. Plus, their very obvious leap into puberty is hilarious to witness outside the classroom. The girls, shy as ever, break from their obnoxious giggle circle to talk to me.

And the funny thing is, they still call me teacher.

"Laura Teacher! You remember me?

Yaksa [my school's name], I Yaksa. You remember?"

Of course I do.

The boys are even more of a riot. I ran into some of my favorites this afternoon on their way to a PC room.

"Teacher, teacher-- you have boyfriend?"
"No."
"OHHHHHHH- Teacher, Teacher! He! He! [pointing to their friend] He wants to be your boyfriend! He has 14 girlfriends, many many!"

This launches a string of Korean, playful hitting and laughter I feel privileged to belong in.

Tonight I had the opportunity to talk to one of my students and even meet her family. As I turned to leave, I heard the universal sound of astonishment and approval from her family for speaking such great English. A smile instantly broke across my face. I might not be the key component in a classroom, but I definitely see my purpose in these kids' lives.

Maybe it's starting to sink in that I'll only be here for 5 more months-- that over half of my contract is over, and when I leave I won't see these incredible kids anymore. But I'm really enjoying the strolls around my neighborhood, whether it's running into my students at the department store, outside their apartment as their friends depart from a birthday party, or playing badminton with family in the residential streets.

And that will always be something worth seeking, even in my own neighborhood.

Edu-tainment: When I use the education materials to entertain myself.

As a Guest English Teacher, I've often been told that our role in the school runs somewhere along the line between a teacher of our native language and a court jester from the Medieval times-- that is, we are part instructor and part entertainer (shaken, not stirred).

This puts us in the line of business cleverly labeled 'edutainment'... and oh, how I love and despise it equally.

The last time I had a visitor in Korea, it was brought to my attention that there are some strange things about the way children learn English here. I mean, sure-- overall, Korea's programs are pretty effective. But I guess when the consumers of this English-crazy material had lessons on grammar and vocabulary since you were 7, the people producing these learning tools have to start thinking outside the box to keep students focused.

Or perhaps it's another one of those cultural lenses I just don't see through with quite the same perspective. Sometimes, things which are supposedly obvious to Koreans don't register with me.

Either way, it's all edu-tainment to me.

The following series of photos were captured from an English poster in our staff room. There are no captions to go along with these "English 365" photos, so I decided to make some of my own from the more... interesting pictures.

"Hey Bill, you want this fish? It's about to go bad, and it smells like socks, but you look like you're fish-deprived based on that crazy look in your eyes."

"ZOMG I LOVE FISH. THAT'S WHY I ALWAYS CARRY THIS FORK! NOM NOM NOM"

"Look! It's the elusive bald fairy I've been searching for my whole life. It just flew off my shoulder and into the sky! Do you see it??? DO YOU SEE IT?!"

"WTF where did all this grey hair come from?! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!!!"

This picture, I assume, is depicting two people talking about their favorite animal (let's hope). But what is the thing on the left? Is it a monkey? A cat? A sad, deformed hamster? 

The guy on the left appears pretty blissfully ignorant to his friend's sad state:

"George... it's... it's so hot... could I have a sip of your water?"
"Oh, you mean this water? You're right, Joe; it's been just sweltering today, but look how jolly I am with this water... it's amazing what some hydration can do for you. Say, you should drink more water, Joe. You don't look so good."

 "낙서" (nak-seo) means "graffiti", which just makes this picture funny by virtue.


Got any clever captions? Please post them in the comments below or send them to playingwithelephants@gmail.com.

Cheers to the weekend!

How to trick your students into thinking you're fluent in Korean.

For those of you who take me seriously always (big mistake), I'm not sure I actually condone tricking your students into thinking you're fluent in Korean. It's good for your students to see someone they look up to learning a language; it's inspiring to them. And whether you realize it or not, learning a language while you're teaching a different language really helps your lesson planning. How better to know how to teach a skill than by simultaneously being a student for a paralleling skill?

However, one of the key advantages for being a foreigner learning Korean is that the little bits you do use in the classroom not only gain control, but awe your students into literally jaw-dropping wonderment.

I'll stop rambling and cut to the chase.

1. Sit down please. 앉으세요. (an-ju-seyo).

This is the more polite version, but if you really want to get to the point and/or some little stinker is causing you grief, 앉아 (an-ja) will do.

2. Speak louder please. 크게말해세요. (ku-gey mal hey-seyo).

Just 'louder' (크게 or ku-gey) will also do... the other great thing about using Korean with students is that you can be fairly informal because you are their superiors. If classroom Korean is all you desire to learn, these phrases are sure to be some of the easiest.

3. Correct! 맞아요! (ma-ja-yo!) or shortened for students can also be: 마자! (ma-ja!).


4. It's also good to have a working sense of numbers up to 35, as student numbers are often used to call on random kids (very effective if a class is virtually silent, or if you want to instill a healthy dose of fear into their little hearts). There are 2 number systems in the Korean language, but the one you will need to know for student numbers (ordinal numbers) can be found here, at Talk to Me in Korean (Level 1, Lesson 15).

5. While you're at it, here's some basic classroom vocabulary:

Student- 학생 (hak-seng)
Teacher 선생님 (seon-seng-nim)
Chalk- 분필(boon-pil)
Paper- You may be using 2 different words for paper in the classroom. 종이 (jong-ee) is literally 'paper.' However, (jang) 장 is the counter used to talk about paper in the context of, "A piece (장) of paper (종이)".*
Period- 마침표 (mah-chim-pyo)

Lastly, please don't be afraid to use this one:

6. I only speak a little Korean. 한글말조금해요. (hangul-mal-jo-gum-hey-oh). Because it's important to know how to express this sentiment when your students get excited that you have the magical power of 'Korean Speak' and they start barrelling you with questions in Korean.


*UPDATE: I would like to thank Marie Frenette for adding (and improving) some useful information to this post. You can find some other useful classroom Korean phrases in the comments section below.

Weapons of teaching warfare.

The month of January has almost come to an end, and with it comes the end of Winter Camps. Virtually every foreign teacher has their own personal version of hell they can relay from camp (although some teachers lucked out and actually loved their placement), but the bottom line is that the life-sucking power from these programs really took a hit on blog posts.

I find it only appropriate to pass along some wisdom and humor at this point. While the students were learning vocabulary and grammar, what was I learning?


I mean, besides the Korean word for period (마침표, or ma-chim-pyo), since my students can never remember to use one and it's really annoying

Well, when you go into the classroom battle zone, sometimes it's good to be prepared with teaching weapons. These items are absolutely not necessaries for a teacher (and depending on the classroom could even be a distraction), but in the world of edutainment, they are definitely useful tools that gain student interest and focus attention on the lesson. Obviously, Winter Camp was the perfect place to introduce these weapons of classroom warfare into my teaching routine.

1. Pointer
For Guest English teachers, 'listen and repeat after me' drill portions of a lesson are a necessary part of student-teacher interaction. It's useful to have something to point with, especially if you're short and the television screens are at an uncomfortable height above your head (and you're wearing a short dress in a room of 6th grade boys... it may have happened once). Pointers are also a universal symbol of power among your students, so you're sure to earn some street cred if you carry it around with a stoic look on your face (although I don't know how much my kids respect this one since it looks like the gesture for 'scissors' in Korean Rock-Paper-Scissors).

2. Soft Ball
For games, random quizzing, or a de-stress mechanism, I highly recommend the squishy ball. 'Pass the Ball' games are pretty common in Korean lessons, so playing ball games may not even take too much explanation (which can be a challenge for some English teachers). Not to mention, if you can juggle or do anything else somewhat impressive, more street cred!

3. Big Plastic Whistle
Although used sparingly, this is probably my favorite teaching tool. The big plastic whistle was a gift from another native teacher specifically for Winter Camp, and it has been the envy of many a teacher since its arrival into my life. Its use is also multi-faceted-- games, Sports Days, or bringing a 20-some group of rowdy Korean students to their seats in mere seconds-- making it a really awesome addition to my armory. I generally keep this baby hidden so it never loses its shock value when I pull it out of my bag of tricks.

Remember, teaching has way more to do with methodology, commitment to the learning objectives, classroom management, and passion for student success than the flash and frills of some dollar-store toys... but as edutainers in a world where the native language is not our own, sometimes it's okay to stick with the old adage that all's fair in love and war. And teaching definitely falls into both categories.




PS: If anyone caught the irony of the missing period in this post, give yourself a cookie.

Of course my students take me seriously.

You know you're a foreign teacher in Korea when...

you find humor and perhaps even complete joy in waving ridiculously at all the Koreans who stare at you.

Microsoft Office in Korean characters stops seeming like such a beast and more like the program you used to be friends with.

eating octopus is not only not an accomplishment, but has become practically an essential food group.

you use the universal sign of acknowledgment, 네 (or ney), around everyone, including non-Koreans.

the best part of your day is coming home and laying on your heated floor.

you can't imagine your life in winter without a hat and scarf, or anything else that will assist in covering every square inch of your body 3 times over.

 

your Korean co-teachers can't eat the soup you just finished because it was too spicy for them.

that fateful day comes that you accept that standing on public transportation is not only polite, but convenient for you since all the elders will glare until you stand up anyway.

you value stickers and candy more than the won, because it's the only thing that will motivate your students on 'those' teaching days.

conversations among teachers after work include over-exaggerated hand gestures and accentuated pronunciation.

your planner is full of Konglish and cartoon stickers from your students, completely killing any chance of getting that date you were trying to plan when you pulled out your planner to begin with (damnit).

everything seems to smile at you.

 

you cringe at catch phrases such as "so-so" and "I'm fine, thank you. And you?"

the best scolding you've given all week is, "WHY HOMEWORK NO? DO YOUR HOMEWORK. YOU MAKE TEACHER SAD."

you find yourself improvising choreography for a song aptly titled, "I Like Oranges"... in front of your 3rd graders... after hearing it once.

To all my fellow teachers in Korea, you're daily, crazy, outright heroes. 
Here's to you.
-Laura

Winter Camp is a lot like the zoo: it's full of monkeys.

In Korea, work is abundant, no matter your age. Even during vacation, when public schools are closed, students are sent to winter camps to practice English. It goes without saying, then, that winter camp season is almost essential to native English teachers like me. For me, this is a month-long experience in January a chance to work in smaller groups of students and use more creativity in my lessons.

For the students, it's a chance to go wild, put stickers all over my hands, and ask me questions until we're both blue in the face. But at least they're using English a good percent of the time the chaos is happening, so it all comes out in the wash.

At the beginning of the week, all of my students looked something like this:

So it was a little difficult to communicate.

But we took some time to get to know each other, and now we can have conversations between classes. Questions from my students at camp usually revolve around these topics:

1. Where does Laura Teacher live? (I never give a direct answer since I live so close to my school)
2. Does Laura Teacher have a boyfriend? (every student wants to know this from their foreign teachers)
3. Is Laura Teacher French? (surprisingly this one gets asked a lot)
4. What is Laura Teacher's phone number (this one is, for obvious reasons, also a secret)
5. What is my name? (students love to ask teachers this... I'm beginning to realize how bad I am with placing names to faces!)

The most popular one today was, "Laura Teacher, how old are you?" Due to my young age, I decided to keep this one under wraps as well, and now tell students I'm anywhere between 65 and 103. Today I chose age 78, and it sparked an interesting discussion:

Again, at least they're using English. Even if I'm a grandmother.

By the end of the week, I found some harmony when I decided to teach my students a Beatles song. Multimedia is an excellent way to engage students, and the song choice turned out to be perfect, even for low-level students.

All the same, I'm planning on bringing bananas next week for those monkeys. I don't want them to turn on me.

impressions.

Now that I've been here almost 2 months and feel rather settled (well, as settled as you can be in the middle of Korea after 2 months), I thought it would be fun to share a few assessments I've made. This entry comes with a small disclaimer, because as you'll see, there are no direct quotes from co-teachers, students, or anyone else to support what I'm saying.

But this is my blog, so let's just roll with it. Just remember this is all from the mouth of a waygook (or 'foreigner', for all you Westerners).


What I think of the food.

I still love Korean food. In fact, most blog ideas pour from my brain after a long day at work as I sit in this one little kim bap shop across the street from my apartment. It's adorable, family-run I think, and has a huge menu with really inexpensive food. The owners know me and my favorites now, which I'm really happy about. Big breakthrough today: they offered me more soup for free. I think they like me.

Also, for those who have been curious about how my vegetarian status was holding up: I have made the decision to eat chicken meat on occasion, mostly for the sake of my school dinners and evenings out with foreigner friends. In my close group of friends, we had a seafood allergy, a lactose-free diet, and me playing the part of vegetarian. This ruled out basically any dining options... what a nightmare. So me eating chicken here and there has helped us all immensely. Besides, after the tripe incident, I figured it would be safer to know I was eating chicken than not know I was eating cow stomach.


What my co-teachers think of me.

Firstly, they recognize I'm very young and remind me on a daily basis. This has not stopped them from continuing to point out every available male teacher, despite their age.

They think that the students like me because I have blue eyes. Like I mesmerize them with my 'special' eyes. What I fail to tell them is that if I actually had this power, I may not have left the US to begin with.

My left-handedness is becoming a new topic of interest. Today at lunch, my Korean father actually looked a little concerned that I was left-handed. He asked me if I was actually right-handed like I use my left hand just for fun. Then everyone wanted to know how I became left-handed. When I said it was my choice (slash genetics, I pointed out), I got some strangely amused looks. The weird looks only got weirder when I got up the nerve to ask if anyone in Korea is left-handed. Guess not. Now, I already knew the left hand was 'bad' in Korea, but it is getting a little frustrating for people to tell me that I do things well "even though she uses her left hand."

Today, my Human Services self remembered an essay I wrote last fall for a class on Diversity and Social Justice. We wrote about our privileges and disadvantages in society. I talked about my left-handedness as a disAbility at the most mild level. Well, here in Korea, it's seen as more of a handicap than anywhere I've ever been. Once again, I'm so thankful for my major.

Okay, I can't help it; I worked so hard to get this degree. Here is a small excerpt from my essay:

I am proud to be left-handed, and the fact that I am a minority in this area makes me feel unique. Being left-handed does not make me feel like a minority, and society does not make me feel excluded outright for being left-handed (although historically, organized religion used to consider left-handed people ‘evil’). However, US culture is generally built for right-handed people. Scissors, desks, and many instructions for skills such as knitting create a divide between people who are right-dominated versus left-dominated. Sometimes, I am frustrated with people’s shock at my left-handed quality, or their assumptions that my handwriting is not as competent as a right-hander’s. These stereotypes are a concise analogy for the hierarchy between majorities and minorities in society; the minority is viewed as different (and therefore less functional) than the majority.

One last interesting comment I heard this week was about my "S line." I don't think they knew that I understood what they were saying, but I learned from my friend Angela (who basically paved the way for me in Korean culture) that the "S line" is a term used to describe an ideal body type in Korea. If you look at the shape of the S, perhaps you'll understand: something of a chest, small waist, and ample hips. Needless to say, it's not too difficult to have an "S line" when you're being compared to Korean body types, but it was pretty hilarious to hear it from my lady co-teachers.


What my students think of me.

All smiles.

Well, mostly.

Nah, they've been pretty good, actually. I'm getting to know several of them on more than a name-basis (and believe me, when they don't have an English name, the name-basis alone is pretty difficult!). Some kids come in for tutoring in the afternoon, so usually they are deferred to me. I really like it. It's natural and more personal. It's why I came here.

They think I'm silly. I sing in class, dance, and am probably a good mental health break from their insanely stressful lives. On the first day of my lessons, I did an introduction slideshow with pictures of my family. One of them had a picture of my mom and I making a funny face. Apparently this image really stuck in their heads because two girls came up to me this weekend and wanted to know how to make 'the face.'

This was it.
We had an English Festival this weekend (pictured above) and it felt good to work with my kids outside of class... we had fun, despite the fact that our booth was a Jenga Spell game and I still cringe when I think about the sound of those wooden blocks crashing (as you can see, it was a pretty crazy, loud booth!).

Again, my co-teachers claim that our booth was popular because of my eyes, not the bags of candy we were giving away.


What I think about learning Korean.

It's a slow process but I'm still working at it everyday. I feel like my comprehension is definitely getting better, but my speech is lacking. It's incredibly difficult to muster up the energy to learn a language when I'm already teaching a different one all day.

I'm self-teaching with the help of my co-teachers, students, www.talktomeinkorean.com, and cell phone Korean-to-English dictionary.

By the way, I tried to think about Spanish today, the other language I used to know moderately. I couldn't even get my mind around it. I really admire anyone who is multi-lingual.


What I think of Korea (everyone asks me this so I'm just going to answer it).

I absolutely love it here. I miss you all, sometimes a lot, but this is a great experience for me. If you would ever like to send mail or packages, I can definitely return the favor with something special from Korea.

trade-offs.

There are many trade-offs Westerners face when they come to Korea:

• Instead of dryers for our clothes, there are nice hanging racks in every laundry room.

• Instead of karaoke bars, there are noraebangs, literally translated as singing rooms, where you can bust a move in the company of your closest friends and co-workers instead of total strangers. Although which groups is more likely to boo you off the stage is kind of a toss up.
• Instead of a basket of bread with every meal, there's kimchi (well, until recently).
• But for me, one of the biggest trade-offs is the entertainment drama. Considering the small but loyal group of followers to this blog, I will confess to my television vice at home: namely General Hospital, a long-standing and respectable soap opera (damn it).

Because of copyright laws, I am unable to stream basically any American television from Korea, including my beloved GH. However, the alternative has been right in front of me for weeks.

The lesson-to-lesson drama of our English curriculum's zany characters.

In every unit, there are video clips featuring several cartoon and real-life characters, who demonstrate the target language to students in the most over-reactive, unimaginative ways possible. So it's nothing short of inevitable that by the time class number 4 of the day rolls around, my mind is concocting some lavish background to the stories these characters are enacting.

At first, I thought I was nuts. But after speaking with other foreign teachers, I found out that they too were creating stories for their video clips.

Please meet Minsu (overzealous lookin' kid with the green tee) and friends, as depicted by a computer graphic circa 1946.


These characters teach students all about English through 1-minute anecdotes.

Most recently, I was startled by a lesson where Tony (blondie with the glasses and questionable overalls) meets Santa. Aside from the fact that it's the first week of October, this video (which I tried desperately to find online to no avail) disturbed me because Santa appears to be inebriated, waking Tony up from his sugar-plumb dreams when he mysteriously falls with a sickening thud on the floor of the living room in front of the tree.

In another video, Santa also suddenly appears on Julie's bed, sitting next to her to give her a doll. Can you say creepy?

The lesson, of course, is to get students to express what they want. But how can students concentrate on this lesson when they are scared for their lives that Santa is going to appear like a Christmas Eve ninja at the foot of their bed?

Here are one of the video clips featuring some real-life characters, Ann and Kevin:



Just to prove I'm not the only one convinced there's more going on in these videos: an account of the crazy drama between Kevin, Ann and Eujin, as told by my middle school teacher friend (who shall remain nameless to protect their identity)-

Eujin got a cellphone. Kevin did not answer when Eujin called, so Ann took a message. Later, Eujin called Kevin and told him she needed help fixing her computer, which Kevin agreed to. Kevin got tired of Eujin's constant calls and began screening them after she got her new cell phone. He hooks up with Ann, who does not know Eujin stalks Kevin, and she picks up the phone. She plays it off like she belongs there and takes a message.

Kevin is a serious jerk and never gives Ann his number after the best night of her life, so it turns out the only phone number Kevin seems to possess is Eujin's. He seriously cannot call anyone else. Kevin realizes how sad and lonely his little blond life is, and finally answers Eujin's call. A stalker is better than no company. He agrees to fix her computer in hopes of getting some, as he has also realized after his time with Ann that he is a hopeless sex addict. Kevin and Eujin have been messed up ever since Eujin ran for class president she spent all her time campaigning, and then she got arrogant it was all a downward psychological spiral from there now look at them.

The lesson being taught, of course, is about who called who in the video. But how can students even concentrate when there is so much obvious tension between these characters? It's boggling.

Either way, I guess my daily dose of television drama is still available. No complaints here.


PS: Don't ask what that yellow guy is, but his name is Zeeto.