It's tricky. My students' English is below average for high school students in Seoul. The standard lies about their potential to use English. Many have as much English education as the high-performing students, but are not as good accessing it, using it. Their confidence, as a result, is rather low--lower than it should be.
In Korea, the poor kids at the lowest-ranked high schools do not feel smart, are not comfortable being treated as intelligent, are in no way what an American teacher would call entitled. In fact, their teachers talk about them as if they aren't capable of anything better. Their lack of confidence creates a difficult environment for English conversation in the classroom. I know at least 40-50% of the students in each class, around 300 students at my school, simply see no reason to try any longer. A good portion of those kids will not attend university.
I'm a teacher who respects a students' choice to not participate. I'm not happy about it, but I know it doesn't create a better classroom community, better discourse when ten of the thirty to forty students aren't interested and, quite frankly, need not be interested. The kids know more than anybody else that high school is not mandatory, university is for privileged Koreans, and they'd likely be better off doing something more productive with their time. The difference between conversation with and about students is strikingly different here. There's a pragmatism about the future in Korea that, though it may have been useful in the past, serves to paint a rather thick line of boundary between the privileged upper-class and everyone else. And my students are woefully attuned to it without protest.
This week and next, I'm conducting 750 or so two-minute conversation exams. I'm halfway through the first week and have seen almost a quarter of my students. It's tiring, a little boring, yet I find these tests an interesting commentary on the value of the work I plan and complete with the students leading up to our tests.
I'm working on two posts that I'll soon publish. Maybe I can complete them this evening. The first will explain the work I planned for my classes and illustrate the expectations I had looking ahead to the tests. The second post will illustrate the test and discuss the results, student reception, and their apparent study habits. I'll try to offer an honest evaluation about the success of the lessons and exam. I try to be as self-critical as possible. It's too easy as the only English-speaking teacher on a campus of 1200 students, teachers and staff to become over critical to the point of pointless dwelling in shit.
I often feel unfocused, un-implemented, if you will, here. And it's natural to blame my colleagues, the rather rigid dogma of Korean culture, even the idealism in my pedagogical perspectives. Fact is, my presence here is an imposition on everyone, me too. I've had to come to terms that I'm over-qualified for this job and improperly placed. I was put at this school by request from a principal who wanted an experienced teacher for the school's first appointed Native Speaking English Teacher. I'd likely be much better used at one of the top-ranked schools where the kids could get much more out of me and my skills.
Yet, and it's a strong yet, I am over-joyed to be working at a school with kids Korea has more or less written off. I hate the rich with a passion, and since arriving in Korea, have grown more peaceful with my basic opposition to the upper classes. In the US, entitlement and privilege are often hidden because the middle classes delude themselves into believing they can one day gain elite status, and the poorest believe that hope is not futile. In Korea, the wealthiest people are assholes who flaunt their status as if they were born righteously privileged and any challenge to it is and will always be immoral and rude. I hate wealthy Koreans; they are disgusting, mean, irritating, arrogant pricks.
In other words, I love my school and look forward to seeing the students each day.
And speaking of tests, here are my students.
Showing posts with label samsung high school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label samsung high school. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The Korean Quotidian: Office Routines
I'm sharing an office with one of those OCD guys every Korean office seems to have. He's very nice and constantly cleans. When he's not cleaning, he's teaching; when he's neither teaching nor cleaning, he's hiking. He's mopped our office floor five times in three days. I think he needs some help.
The mopping at my school involves the coldest water and a mop. Nothing becomes clean: doesn't look clean, doesn't smell clean, isn't clean.
Constant dirty pooled
Water and wet smell,
Dust and mop cotton.
Keywords: musky, dusky, dank, dirty.
Wet concrete, kept wet, only slightly visibly erodes leaving a fine and consistent gray dust on its surface. It's a sneaky erosion. It makes my obsessive and anxious office mate believe the floor is never quite clean enough to leave alone. He's expediting its erosion. A wonderful signifier for his state of mind.
His look betrays the kind of anxiety that quietly unsettles the daily order, gives the appearance of cohesion and adherence to a routine that is always unraveling. Where am I going to find enough time to clean this office before I have to teach. It suggests when he returns from the classroom, fifty minutes later, he'll have forgotten he worked so hard to get it right the first time. He'll clean again.
The mopping at my school involves the coldest water and a mop. Nothing becomes clean: doesn't look clean, doesn't smell clean, isn't clean.
Constant dirty pooled
Water and wet smell,
Dust and mop cotton.
Keywords: musky, dusky, dank, dirty.
Wet concrete, kept wet, only slightly visibly erodes leaving a fine and consistent gray dust on its surface. It's a sneaky erosion. It makes my obsessive and anxious office mate believe the floor is never quite clean enough to leave alone. He's expediting its erosion. A wonderful signifier for his state of mind.
His look betrays the kind of anxiety that quietly unsettles the daily order, gives the appearance of cohesion and adherence to a routine that is always unraveling. Where am I going to find enough time to clean this office before I have to teach. It suggests when he returns from the classroom, fifty minutes later, he'll have forgotten he worked so hard to get it right the first time. He'll clean again.
Monday, November 8, 2010
시끄러운 교실
The longer I teach in Seoul the more I'm learning about classroom control management as an active and sometimes aggressive yet covert struggle between between my expectations for my students and my students' expectations for me. I say covert because the traditional classroom does not permit never mind encourage student dissent. In other words, I don't see the students and me meeting each other in an ideal public space we call a classroom in which we work together to complete a series of tasks and conversations in order to learn. I see my and my students' expectations meeting in a rhetorical space through which we communicate with each other about lessons I'm more or less obligated to teach them.
I've quickly described two classrooms; neither is an actual room we could call The Real Classroom. One is an ideal classroom and the other a rhetorical space. Teaching in an ideal public classroom is an experience I very much want to have. I'd love to see the promise fulfilled, the promise of democratic discourse in a public classroom that results in learning and an exchange of ideas many of which derived from the original social difference of the individuals in the class. The latter space, which I refuse to call a classroom, is the space I'm obliged to maintain. It's a space wherein cultural difference, contractual obligation and the State all work to create turbulence that is always just slightly less than the natural noise in an actual classroom: students, teachers, desks, chairs, the A/V, the fan. For the students, this turbulence registers in anxiety and discomfort heard in their voices, seen on their faces. Some simply sleep through it. A few react violently to its presence.
I don't now how most teachers handle this. Actually, I do. Most teachers use their power to maintain order in their classrooms with more or less successful results. Most teachers teach to maintain order: order in the tradition, order in the room, order in their assumptions, order in their lives, and so on. In addition, I always assume, and I think I'm correct in making this assumption, that most teachers don't believe this turbulence (as opposed to the everyday noise) exists. Most teachers I meet seem willing to accept the classroom space a school district provides for what it is and that their task is to instruct students on how to do specific tasks more correctly, more efficiently. In effect, our public classrooms are nothing more than training students how to be good employees and consumers. I don't want to pick on most teachers, but I do have a problem with the attitude that for all its claims to appreciate the importance in education actually reinforces the notion that ranking is much more important than understanding and appreciating knowledge. I don't think it's good for us and I know it's not good for our students.
Most days, teaching public school in Korea is a lesson in humility. Even when what I teach entertains and educates my students, an honest assessment of the quality and usefulness of my lessons can lead to slight, if not heavy, depression. I never question my dedication to teaching; don't misunderstand me. It's that I get depressed when I think of the dirty rooms, decaying infrastructure, smelly uniforms, unhappy employees, horrible food, and incomplete lessons. Of course, there's much more we, as in society, can do to improve the horrible situation(s) of public education. In Korea, as in the US, much public discourse concerning educational reform embraces the ideals we all think a healthy democratic society has to offer the classroom. But much if not all the talk about teachers and students is focused squarely on the outcomes of tests that evaluate performance of students and now teachers. These ideals are, then, not at all about education, pedagogy, practice, knowledge, discourse and rhetoric. They are market ideals that help explain, encourage, inculcate, and distribute capitalist cultural myths. I don't care about these ideals when it comes down to it because I find them facile and vacuous; in the sense that we all know them already, some of us agree with them in spirit, and yet do absolutely nothing to insure we shall attain them.
I'm going to post a lengthy description of my last lesson and attempt to examine what I'm doing here at Samsung High School. I want to examine the usefulness of the language work I attempt to accomplish on a weekly basis.
I have titled this post "The Noisy Classroom" because I encourage noise in my classrooms. The noise in my classes is bilingual--Korean and English. The noise is outbursts, questions, casual conversation, friendly banter as well as scolding address: all the typical noises are present. I tend to have students work in groups. My high school students tend dwell "behind the curve." They are nowhere near proficient enough to meet Korea's standards for students their age. In each class, I can expect anywhere from 2 to 6 students who are at a solid intermediate level or above. I can expect 5 to 10 students who are at a low intermediate level. I can expect the other students to be at a beginner level or have little to no desire to use English at all.
This poses a problem for me. If I were a teacher who made demands of my students based on the standards, as most teachers do, I'd get no satisfactory work accomplished, no matter how good my lessons were. No matter what my colleagues think of ESL/EFL standards, theory and praxis, I'm not teaching in an environment where I can use traditional teaching methods to gain positive results. First, the students aren't at the level that Korea's standards insist we (teachers and students) maintain; second, I have no instutional support.
In addition, the standard serves to remind my students how poorly they perform in comparison to the standard. It serves no other purpose; I'd argue even at the schools where students outperform the standard the standards do not encourage learning instead instilling habits of competition. Students are, in fact, oppressed by the standard. I found in my first year at school that the lessons the Korean teachers encouraged me to instruct were of two kinds: 1) informative lessons meant to encourage students to memorize and repeat certain linguistic structures and/or vocabulary and 2) games meant to entertain as much as teach. These lessons fulfill two concerns Koreans have about classroom management: learning and entertainment.
I do believe that Korean teachers, in this respect, are very similar to American teachers. They want students to enjoy their lessons. The problem is that the kinds of lessons I was encourage to design, implement and teach do not take students into consideration. The lessons are actually much more about satisfying what the teachers, administration and culture of education demand. This is the turbulent noise that most adversely affects my classrooms in Korea. In the US, in my university classrooms, I could control this noise more effectively. I am, in fact, part of the problem in Korea. I'm the colonial presence in Korean culture, the physical manifestation of all that worries Koreans about English-language culture in Korean society. And my voice, if it is in tune with standards, is a repetitive You're Not Right. Most teachers I know are unwilling to work this into how they teach, this consciousness of oppression. Some are unwilling to admit it's presence. Still others seem to take pleasure in treating students like slaves to their cause.
With the next few posts, I want to share my lesson, consider my classroom, come to a better understanding of what it is I'm doing here and what my work means. Feel free to participate in the comments. Share your stories, questions, concerns.
I've quickly described two classrooms; neither is an actual room we could call The Real Classroom. One is an ideal classroom and the other a rhetorical space. Teaching in an ideal public classroom is an experience I very much want to have. I'd love to see the promise fulfilled, the promise of democratic discourse in a public classroom that results in learning and an exchange of ideas many of which derived from the original social difference of the individuals in the class. The latter space, which I refuse to call a classroom, is the space I'm obliged to maintain. It's a space wherein cultural difference, contractual obligation and the State all work to create turbulence that is always just slightly less than the natural noise in an actual classroom: students, teachers, desks, chairs, the A/V, the fan. For the students, this turbulence registers in anxiety and discomfort heard in their voices, seen on their faces. Some simply sleep through it. A few react violently to its presence.
I don't now how most teachers handle this. Actually, I do. Most teachers use their power to maintain order in their classrooms with more or less successful results. Most teachers teach to maintain order: order in the tradition, order in the room, order in their assumptions, order in their lives, and so on. In addition, I always assume, and I think I'm correct in making this assumption, that most teachers don't believe this turbulence (as opposed to the everyday noise) exists. Most teachers I meet seem willing to accept the classroom space a school district provides for what it is and that their task is to instruct students on how to do specific tasks more correctly, more efficiently. In effect, our public classrooms are nothing more than training students how to be good employees and consumers. I don't want to pick on most teachers, but I do have a problem with the attitude that for all its claims to appreciate the importance in education actually reinforces the notion that ranking is much more important than understanding and appreciating knowledge. I don't think it's good for us and I know it's not good for our students.
Most days, teaching public school in Korea is a lesson in humility. Even when what I teach entertains and educates my students, an honest assessment of the quality and usefulness of my lessons can lead to slight, if not heavy, depression. I never question my dedication to teaching; don't misunderstand me. It's that I get depressed when I think of the dirty rooms, decaying infrastructure, smelly uniforms, unhappy employees, horrible food, and incomplete lessons. Of course, there's much more we, as in society, can do to improve the horrible situation(s) of public education. In Korea, as in the US, much public discourse concerning educational reform embraces the ideals we all think a healthy democratic society has to offer the classroom. But much if not all the talk about teachers and students is focused squarely on the outcomes of tests that evaluate performance of students and now teachers. These ideals are, then, not at all about education, pedagogy, practice, knowledge, discourse and rhetoric. They are market ideals that help explain, encourage, inculcate, and distribute capitalist cultural myths. I don't care about these ideals when it comes down to it because I find them facile and vacuous; in the sense that we all know them already, some of us agree with them in spirit, and yet do absolutely nothing to insure we shall attain them.
I'm going to post a lengthy description of my last lesson and attempt to examine what I'm doing here at Samsung High School. I want to examine the usefulness of the language work I attempt to accomplish on a weekly basis.
I have titled this post "The Noisy Classroom" because I encourage noise in my classrooms. The noise in my classes is bilingual--Korean and English. The noise is outbursts, questions, casual conversation, friendly banter as well as scolding address: all the typical noises are present. I tend to have students work in groups. My high school students tend dwell "behind the curve." They are nowhere near proficient enough to meet Korea's standards for students their age. In each class, I can expect anywhere from 2 to 6 students who are at a solid intermediate level or above. I can expect 5 to 10 students who are at a low intermediate level. I can expect the other students to be at a beginner level or have little to no desire to use English at all.
This poses a problem for me. If I were a teacher who made demands of my students based on the standards, as most teachers do, I'd get no satisfactory work accomplished, no matter how good my lessons were. No matter what my colleagues think of ESL/EFL standards, theory and praxis, I'm not teaching in an environment where I can use traditional teaching methods to gain positive results. First, the students aren't at the level that Korea's standards insist we (teachers and students) maintain; second, I have no instutional support.
In addition, the standard serves to remind my students how poorly they perform in comparison to the standard. It serves no other purpose; I'd argue even at the schools where students outperform the standard the standards do not encourage learning instead instilling habits of competition. Students are, in fact, oppressed by the standard. I found in my first year at school that the lessons the Korean teachers encouraged me to instruct were of two kinds: 1) informative lessons meant to encourage students to memorize and repeat certain linguistic structures and/or vocabulary and 2) games meant to entertain as much as teach. These lessons fulfill two concerns Koreans have about classroom management: learning and entertainment.
I do believe that Korean teachers, in this respect, are very similar to American teachers. They want students to enjoy their lessons. The problem is that the kinds of lessons I was encourage to design, implement and teach do not take students into consideration. The lessons are actually much more about satisfying what the teachers, administration and culture of education demand. This is the turbulent noise that most adversely affects my classrooms in Korea. In the US, in my university classrooms, I could control this noise more effectively. I am, in fact, part of the problem in Korea. I'm the colonial presence in Korean culture, the physical manifestation of all that worries Koreans about English-language culture in Korean society. And my voice, if it is in tune with standards, is a repetitive You're Not Right. Most teachers I know are unwilling to work this into how they teach, this consciousness of oppression. Some are unwilling to admit it's presence. Still others seem to take pleasure in treating students like slaves to their cause.
With the next few posts, I want to share my lesson, consider my classroom, come to a better understanding of what it is I'm doing here and what my work means. Feel free to participate in the comments. Share your stories, questions, concerns.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
My Hood: Walking, Hiking, Scooting
I live in Gwanakgu (관악구). As I have noted before, Gwanakgu is said to be the most populated district (구, "gu,") in Seoul. 2006 figures put the population at 535,217 people; I wouldn't be surprised to learn that well over 600,000 Koreans and immigrants live here now. It's home to two of Seoul's famous ghettos, Sillimdong (신림동) and Bongcheondong (봉천동). Gwanakgu has 21 neighborhoods (동). I live in Sillim-9-dong, now called Daehakdong (대학동). 대학 means "university" and 동 means "section" or "neighborhood"; so, I live in University Town, an area where many Seoul National University and Law students live. It's often called 고시-town (goshi-town) because of the many law students, study offices for them, and the various law tutorial schools that can be found on each Daehak street and alley. Ignored among the throngs of older students and other Koreans, are the immigrant laborers, mostly Chinese, who often work in Seoul's service industry in restaurants, cafes, and food stands. Finally, but not least, my neighborhood and it's surrounding neighborhoods are becoming more popular choices for Native Speaking English Teachers (NSETs) who teach in the many elementary, middle and high schools, as well as hagwon (학원), the many institutes and private academies in the area that cater to students after school and their parents throughout the day.
Not far from my one-room flat (원룸) is my school, Samseong High School, and only a little further down the road is Korea's most famous university, Seoul National University.
I enjoy my fifteen-minute walks to school each morning. Daehakdong is still bustling from the previous night's citizens' drinking and eating at 7:30am. A table or two of lingering customers remain in each restaurant sitting around cooling grills (철판, cheolpan) having finished their cooking and instead retired to contemplating the final shots of soju (소주) left in one of the five, six, or eight bottles in front of them. They smoke and chat. The ajumma (아줌마) and ajeoshi (아저씨) clean and wait for them to vacate so they can catch a little sleep before opening again in the afternoon. I walk quietly by the still-closed cafes, yearning for a real coffee and always settling for the powdered variety sold cheaply at one of the many convenience stores along the way.
As I approach my school, I'm often greeted from down alleys and the three or four streets near my campus by name. The girls and boys shout my name, 게리!, and I'm typically smiling and well-met by the time I find my way to my second-floor desk in the office (교무실, kyomushil). Now that I'm beginning language education at Seoul National, I'll be riding my scooter to work and then onto campus to study. I'll miss my walks.
One of my favorite things to do in Gwanakgu is to hike Gawanaksan and Samseongsan, the two peaks located between my school and Seoul National University. My favorite hike is Samseongsan to Samaksa Temple to Yeombul Temple and then down into Seoul's neighboring city, Ansan.
Over the next week, I want to blog a little about where I live. Look for posts about Daehak, Gwanak, and photos.
Not far from my one-room flat (원룸) is my school, Samseong High School, and only a little further down the road is Korea's most famous university, Seoul National University.
I enjoy my fifteen-minute walks to school each morning. Daehakdong is still bustling from the previous night's citizens' drinking and eating at 7:30am. A table or two of lingering customers remain in each restaurant sitting around cooling grills (철판, cheolpan) having finished their cooking and instead retired to contemplating the final shots of soju (소주) left in one of the five, six, or eight bottles in front of them. They smoke and chat. The ajumma (아줌마) and ajeoshi (아저씨) clean and wait for them to vacate so they can catch a little sleep before opening again in the afternoon. I walk quietly by the still-closed cafes, yearning for a real coffee and always settling for the powdered variety sold cheaply at one of the many convenience stores along the way.
As I approach my school, I'm often greeted from down alleys and the three or four streets near my campus by name. The girls and boys shout my name, 게리!, and I'm typically smiling and well-met by the time I find my way to my second-floor desk in the office (교무실, kyomushil). Now that I'm beginning language education at Seoul National, I'll be riding my scooter to work and then onto campus to study. I'll miss my walks.
One of my favorite things to do in Gwanakgu is to hike Gawanaksan and Samseongsan, the two peaks located between my school and Seoul National University. My favorite hike is Samseongsan to Samaksa Temple to Yeombul Temple and then down into Seoul's neighboring city, Ansan.
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| From 2008 (Seoul ROK) |
Over the next week, I want to blog a little about where I live. Look for posts about Daehak, Gwanak, and photos.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Halloween Class: the early talks
For some reason, my coteachers think permitting the kids to have a costume contest for Halloween is a bad idea.
More on this later. Too bad for them I got them to agree to let the students vote on it. What kids aren't going to want to work in groups making costumes, then judge each other to pick the best costumes for each class?
They'll love it.
Stay tuned for an mini-series of posts where I share with my readers how incredibly difficult it can be to create lessons at a Korean high school.
More on this later. Too bad for them I got them to agree to let the students vote on it. What kids aren't going to want to work in groups making costumes, then judge each other to pick the best costumes for each class?
They'll love it.
Stay tuned for an mini-series of posts where I share with my readers how incredibly difficult it can be to create lessons at a Korean high school.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Because I love you
My routine with second graders--high school Juniors--at my school: listening, group work, writing, and speaking.
Today, this week actually, we will be debating how strict teachers should be in the classroom. The teachers hit the kids here. I should say some are very strict disciplinarians and remind me of College Prep at Cascia Hall with the Sisters and Brothers throwing erasers, slapping and pulling hair. Also the punishments usually involve something physical like repeated low bowing or push ups, for boys, or cleaning the school, for girls.
Some teachers are not disciplinarians. There really is no grey area. They either yell, scream, smack or not. Now, Jansori (patronizing scolding) is something that everyone does. It's a bad habit, in my opinion, but catching. As in, I am catching it--for another post.
So, I finished a presentation on vocabulary to use when debating. Some discussion about using the word because effectively. We'll see how this goes.
Korean students refer to this sort of exercise as PROS & CONS. Some are familiar with the process, some not. I hope they get into the spirit of arguing about how their teachers treat them. It may flop, though: I believe the students here think the teachers do not deserve criticism even though the students do not like their daily regimen. It's the culture.
In addition, I have been slowly working on building critical thinking skills. The students here are woefully lacking the ability to argue with reason and to speak their minds. They often prefer to be given answers they can learn--memorize--in order to score high on multiple-choice exams. So, in my classes, the students write and speak opinions based in reason.
Because is an important word.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Getting On With It: How it Goes
I have a lot to put up here in the next few days. I just posted to DagSign as did Praise. By the Way, Praise will be posting often to DagSign and to DagSeoul, I imagine. I like collaboration and I like her. A Lot. Call it Love. Just don't think of that Alain de Botton novel. Get used to her. I had to. (sarcasm.)
Uhm, so: photos of local love motels, students, classrooms; stories about riding buses, trains, Korean "mountains", food, local folks I love, local folks I don't get, and language. And don't get me started about education and the Korean Government's habit of arresting journalists who write negative things about it and the economy. That's the forecast. I am full with words; thoughts falling all over the place, tinkling shiny metalic baubles, littering my path, enticing you to follow.
Yesterday, for example, I was up at 6AM. By 8.20 I was teaching my first of four classes, visiting 35 of 150 students I will see every Tuesday until late June. We worked on minimal pairs, -s ending sounds, and discussing "interests"/making "plans". I ate something--I really don't know what it is called and neither do my colleagues--for lunch around Noon and chatted with Praise whenever I had a break. We wrote about dinner with her Cousin at 8PM, which quickly followed the first meeting of my new students at Seoul National University student union from 4:30 till 6PM. The walk from school to Seouldae campus was wonderful but quick as I left my classroom at Samseong High School around 4.10. Dinner with Praise's relative was wonderful as was my meeting with my new students, soon to be friends I hope, as was the walk to Seouldae with many of my highschool students lagging behind and shouting at me, as was my day at school, as was my morning walk to campus.
I got home. I laid down. I fell asleep. Turn the page and it's already 2.40PM the next day, near 120 more students seen, and I am preparing to see off my good friend Jan as he leaves Seoul, I hope not but perhaps for good. But before that happens I have to teach my weekly Faculty English class from 4-5pm. We will discuss our families tonight. I'll get home around 5.45 and leave by 6.15 for Sinchon and dinner. And goodbyes. I hope I get drunk.
I miss nothing of the United States and this has me feeling down. Vacant. I do miss my family very much. But the being there that I thought I would miss has been replaced with a being here that I much more interested in. Do you understand what I mean? I don't know if I do fully. I am trying to wrap my mind around it.
Somehow, I am finding time to write, play soccer, cultivate a healthy relationship, and learn a new language.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Contacts and Football
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| From newphotos |
I haven't worn contacts since I was very young. Both Glasses and Contacts are cheap here. I bought Rayban glasses, paid for an eye exam, and two lenses with all the bells and whistles for 190,000won. This is about 150$, on a good day. My contacts cost about 120$. The contacts I bought are the most expensive kind available: I wanted contacts that would be easier on my eyes.
I am headed to northern Seoul tonight to watch a few movies with a friend on his giant screen. He has a cool HD projector set-up and actually lives in an apartment the size of an average studio in the US. My place, in comparison, is about 420 square feet.
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| From newphotos |
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| From newphotos |
Monday, November 17, 2008
Seoul Life
[Note: I am still experiencing Internet access issues at my flat. Some days the speed is so slow, I cannot tolerate working online. So, I haven't blogged as often as I like. My landlord recently fixed my cable access--though I don't watch the TV, save for soccer--and now, strangely, my Internet access has improved. Maybe somebody did something that somehow helped my situation. Anyway...photos to come in subsequent posts.]
I am sitting in my favorite cafe--Cafe Good. It's one of the only ones near my flat that is not named Dog's Nuts or some French Phrase Although The Menu is in Italian. It is the first sub-freezing day in Seoul this Autumn. So, I am drinking hot chocolate.
Actually, the cafe above is named Nut's Dogs; however, even the teacher who first walked me through my new home was embarrassed to note, as we walked past the coffeehouse, that she believed the name "might mean something about the dog's body." I told her she was right, and asked her if she knew about nuts.
She laughed.
I work with wonderful folks. That is, I know they work hard and know they like to play hard, which I admire. I am invited to every social event and never have to pay. Although I insisted last weekend and gave money to my hosts. The teachers at high schools work Monday through Friday from 7:30 until 5 or 6, and they all work on Saturdays until 1, or later. My contract stipulates no work on Saturdays. I don't go in, but I do feel guilty. On the other hand, I inherited developing-the-curriculum for the First- and Second-grade classes for the remainder of this school year--end of January 2009--and the entire 2009-2010 year.
You might think this wouldn't be such a chore. After all, the students have attended English classes at Samsung High School for over a decade. A catalogue of classwork must exist. Unfortunately, I am the first "Native Speaker" at the school; A curriculum does not exist. I'll admit that it is good to be the first for many reasons, not least of which is that I am gaining incredible ESL teaching experience each new day at Samsung. And it is nice to be the one to develop what I will end up having to teach.
However, many problems have already developed as a result of being first. I use a relic PC that has an English version of Windows XP Pro and Office 2003. This would suffice in most situations. I streamlined the software on it, modified a few settings, ran updates (that took over one week to successfully download and install,) and I added Firefox. The computer is slow at times but works as best as it can. Everybody else at school has a Korean version of XP and uses a word processing software called Hangul Word Processor. They tried to make me comfortable by providing a computer that looked and ran like a PC would in the U.S., but in doing so they effectively made it impossible for me to work with students' powerpoint presentations and essays. Most unfortunate is that I am not connected to the school network and messaging system. I always find out about scheduling changes and meetings too late to prepare.
It is incredibly difficult to get to know my male colleagues. They are all older than me and--I think as do my younger, female colleagues--try to save face by avoiding me at all costs. We believe the men don't want to illustrate their lack of English at work. I have hiked with the men on the weekends and have had wonderful exchanges and experienced sincere camaraderie. Oh well. I will say that outside of the silence I am offered at school and other than my undergraduate life at Metropolitan State College of Denver, I have never experienced the warm friendship that men have offered me in Seoul. The men in Korea are very close. They show emotion. They are not afraid of physical contact. For crying out loud, they bathe one another at the sauna. They are affectionate guys. It makes it easy to be friendly. I have always had crappy relationships with men. So, this problem with the male teachers is a very minor one.
I have had several problems with banking that I have yet to sort out. Nobody is able to help. Who could, anyway? I needed to be informed of a few economic realities before I arrived. That should be the Korean government's concern, not my co-teachers' anxiety. So, I am struggling to pay my U.S. debts on time, if at all. I cannot contact my creditors to figure out a method of paying my bills. And I cannot send money to my U.S. bank because they Korean Won loses close to 50% of its value in exchange right now. Anyway, I need a coworker to go to the bank and translate for me, but we work until 5. The banks close at 4:30. My school never thought about this kind of problems that are likely to occur for any new resident. On the other hand, as a government employee, I received speedy access to my Alien Registration Card, my pension plan, my healthcare account. In addition, my landlord will do absolutely anything to attempt to make me at home--like pay my cable bill. I am poor; so, the gesture is welcome. The hospitality I receive helps alleviate major stress I would usually feel while encountering financial problems I have at the moment. (If the economy were better, none of this would be an issue.)
Of course, my school asked for an experienced English teacher and one with experience with Korean students. I fit the bill with 7 years of teaching experience. It's nice to be wanted. However, the teachers were not prepared for somebody with ideas about ESL education--both practical and ideological--to come to their school and begin taking over one third of the curriculum. (The students have English class three times each week; I see them once a week.) When I enter a classroom, I take charge. I don't need help. I was worried about teaching 40 adolescents, but the kids like me and I have made the adjustment from college Freshman and Sophomores to High School Sophomores and Juniors without too many snags.
The teachers are very protective of the students--especially the boys. I am progressive when it comes to classwork, and I insist that the kind of work attempted and possibly completed both builds upon prior lessons and shows visible and applicable results. For I don't know how long, my students have been playing word bingo and solving crossword puzzles for choco-candies. And from what I can tell of other foreigners teaching in the public schools here, many of them proudly carry on the tradition of treating the children like cutie-pies who need special attention. I shouldn't be so critical: many of the teachers hired to travel to Korea are, in fact, not teachers; or, if they are, they are recent graduates from Undergraduate Institutions and are trying to gain a little hands-on experience. At any rate, there is the notion that if a student does something, then that student is LEARNING BY DOING. Of course, the first thing I learned as a teacher was that is complete bullshit; or, WISHFUL THINKING.
If I try to challenge the students I am told they aren't smart or knowledgeable enough to complete the exercise. The problem is that most of my students will interview with several of Korea's Universities in and around Seoul in less than 24 months. The more prestigious schools, which all students dream of attending, all include some type of English conversation in their interviews. My students will struggle with an interview, yet they have been learning English since Primary School. This frustrates me. They cannot read well and don't even think about writing sentences. In addition, the Academies
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I feel the students are being over-protected because they are poor and underprivileged and work so unbelievable hard--15 hours or more a day, 6 days a week, for some every day of the week. I want to hug them, too. But they need to learn to speak English well enough to speak it each day at school and work.
Though I like it here, the cultural differences can be infuriating. I haven't experienced the culture shock that I have seen with other foreigners. My culture clashes can become rather over-significant on any given day because of the amount of work I am asked to accomplish. FOr example, on Monday morning I arrive to school with a new lesson plan for the week and have to make 800 copies of whatever I have for the students. I work from 7:30 until 9am preparing for the week. Then, I teach until 4pm. I teach 5 classes. After seeing 200 students and wearing-in a new lesson plan, I eat dinner and can get home around 8pm. Three days of my five day work week are like this. On the other days, I don't have it easy. In fact, I work later hours. I teach the non-English speaking teachers English on Wednesdays. And I teach 12 students from 5-7pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Mix the cultural misunderstandings with the tremendous workload and you have the potential for anger, not simply frustration. I am happy to say I have had only one argument with a colleague and maybe two verbal disagreements with Koreans in my neighborhood.
I will say: never, never, never get a Korean woman mad. Korean Women have the ability to scream with their entire being: and they like to do it in public. I think I made the colleague who yelled at me (after a ridiculously absurd misunderstanding) initially more angry because the spectacle of her yelling was so intense all I could do was smile in admiration. Such amazing passion; to be honest, my heart only grew fonder. After all, to scream like that at me, she has to care. When I explained to her what was actually happening, she apologized. I apologized as well for causing the problem: I could have done a better job of communicating to her. The entire school heard her yell at me. And nobody spoke about it.
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Monday, October 20, 2008
Samsung High School News
I am now writing lesson plans for both first and second graders at the high school. The experience is a bit bewildering. I am still learning where the students are in their English education. Many students can understand only the most basic English; for them, my classroom work is extremely difficult no matter how simple I make it. On the other hand, many students are excellent English speakers for their age and experience; for these students, the basic work I bring to class is an exercise in boredom and patience. I try, therefore, to teach to the middle. I just don't know where the middle is.
This week we are working on basics: parts of speech.
I went with my students to the Contemporary Art Museum last Thursday. They participated in a writing and painting exercise/contest. I was able to spend time with them outside of school. I took many photos. I am posting them in my next entry.
The students seem to be getting comfortable with me. I am a happy teacher. I very tired, but happy teacher.
This week we are working on basics: parts of speech.
I went with my students to the Contemporary Art Museum last Thursday. They participated in a writing and painting exercise/contest. I was able to spend time with them outside of school. I took many photos. I am posting them in my next entry.
The students seem to be getting comfortable with me. I am a happy teacher. I very tired, but happy teacher.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
My Weekday Routine
I rise at 6am, not too long after many students head-in for sleep after drinking and eating all night. My neighborhood is full of dormitory hotels for students, who after working all-day socialize all-night. Popular bars and restaurants are open till 5am. Still, the neighborhood is never too loud.
I try to leave my flat by 7:30 so I have time to buy coffee. I walk to and from work everyday. The roundtrip is a little over two miles. I am in school by 7:50. At my desk: I check email, facebook, my blog; I brush my teeth. (Routines are so banal.) Around 8:20 I prep for my classes. Only on Wednesdays do I have an early class. Most days I begin teaching at 9:20.
I eat at the cafeteria with my Korean colleagues at 12:10; I teach until 4; I eat dinner most days with students; I usually leave school around 5:30.
I seriously strained both my quadriceps playing soccer and am only permitted to exercise with my club until I am healed. I will post photos: the pitches here are dirt. A sandy hardpack that is unforgiving on feet, ankles, and legs. Thankfully, my knees are fine. I usually play a pick-up game around 6pm on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Across the street from Samsung High School is an elementary school. On the grounds of that school is a beautiful pitch used by the local professional club. Locals are permitted to play on that field in the evenings.
Because I cannot play and until I can again, I visit an acupuncturist after school. Roughly, $3.50 per visit after my healthcare discount. I get two pins in my foot and two in my hand, both rightside, to help control swelling, pain (and heat, I think.)
I am usually home around 8 or 9pm, which is early around here. From what I can tell, the people of Seoul enjoy a night-time culture. I like it quite a bit. I like walking, grabbing a drink from a convenience store, and sitting in a park or on a bench street-side with my neighbors. I probably walk two-four miles each evening.
I am in bed not too long after midnight. If I can't sleep, I read.
Added into this routine is writing, which I am working back into my schedule. I write in the early morning and/or late at night. I always have. I tend to write for 1 to 3 hours at a time.
I try to leave my flat by 7:30 so I have time to buy coffee. I walk to and from work everyday. The roundtrip is a little over two miles. I am in school by 7:50. At my desk: I check email, facebook, my blog; I brush my teeth. (Routines are so banal.) Around 8:20 I prep for my classes. Only on Wednesdays do I have an early class. Most days I begin teaching at 9:20.
I eat at the cafeteria with my Korean colleagues at 12:10; I teach until 4; I eat dinner most days with students; I usually leave school around 5:30.
Next week I will begin teaching a series of night classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 5-7. I have called the 3, 5-week courses Everyday Expressions I, II, and III. From homeroom surveys, I think I'll begin with something like 35 students. I imagine 15 or so will consistently attend. I am excited about these classes. Not only will I make additional income, I will get a chance to become better acquainted with some of the students here. With 800 students, I can't learn names never mind personalities, hopes, needs--all the stuff teachers like to now about their students.
In January, during Winter Vacation, I will teach a 60-hour English Camp. That will be both a challenge and a joy. No extra pay with this as I am contracted to work during Winter break. I am a trained Lecturer for the College classroom, which is much different than a High School English teacher. So I am learning, too. I hope the students will like my course. I will teach Culture, Conversation, Reading, and Writing: 4 hours of class time with lunch dividing the day.
I seriously strained both my quadriceps playing soccer and am only permitted to exercise with my club until I am healed. I will post photos: the pitches here are dirt. A sandy hardpack that is unforgiving on feet, ankles, and legs. Thankfully, my knees are fine. I usually play a pick-up game around 6pm on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Across the street from Samsung High School is an elementary school. On the grounds of that school is a beautiful pitch used by the local professional club. Locals are permitted to play on that field in the evenings.
Because I cannot play and until I can again, I visit an acupuncturist after school. Roughly, $3.50 per visit after my healthcare discount. I get two pins in my foot and two in my hand, both rightside, to help control swelling, pain (and heat, I think.)
I am usually home around 8 or 9pm, which is early around here. From what I can tell, the people of Seoul enjoy a night-time culture. I like it quite a bit. I like walking, grabbing a drink from a convenience store, and sitting in a park or on a bench street-side with my neighbors. I probably walk two-four miles each evening.
I am in bed not too long after midnight. If I can't sleep, I read.
Added into this routine is writing, which I am working back into my schedule. I write in the early morning and/or late at night. I always have. I tend to write for 1 to 3 hours at a time.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Getting it Together
Finally, after three weeks I am feeling settled down and a bit of peace has entered my daily life. I am enjoying my new home. I like my neighborhood. The local government has changed the name of my area to "Daehok". I may have it spelled incorrectly. I am still learning.
I used to live in Sillim-dong. Unfortunately, the word Sillim in Seoul conjures up thoughts about the working poor and reminds everybody here about an undefined, yet ever-present dread of poverty. In an effort to improve property values, apparently, (but really in an effort to make it easier to ignore the all-too visible poverty here) I now live in Daehok-dong, or something along the lines of "University Neighborhood" and "Scholar-Hood". I don't think I have to change my mailing address yet...I don't think. Better look into that.
I pulled a muscle, today, in my leg: somewhere high in my quadricep. It could be a bad strain. I will go to the hospital tomorrow and have a sports injury specialist look at it. Oh yeah, I have a health card and it gets me cheap health care at many places. For what amounts to $3.50, I get a 40 minute acupuncture session. I will go for two weeks, four days a week, while my muscle heals. Great stuff. I might not have to pay for anything at the hospital. It depends what the doctor suggests. I can barely walk. Sucks to be in Seoul with a muscle injury. Walking is a way-of-life here.
I am very happy about several things.
I used to live in Sillim-dong. Unfortunately, the word Sillim in Seoul conjures up thoughts about the working poor and reminds everybody here about an undefined, yet ever-present dread of poverty. In an effort to improve property values, apparently, (but really in an effort to make it easier to ignore the all-too visible poverty here) I now live in Daehok-dong, or something along the lines of "University Neighborhood" and "Scholar-Hood". I don't think I have to change my mailing address yet...I don't think. Better look into that.
I pulled a muscle, today, in my leg: somewhere high in my quadricep. It could be a bad strain. I will go to the hospital tomorrow and have a sports injury specialist look at it. Oh yeah, I have a health card and it gets me cheap health care at many places. For what amounts to $3.50, I get a 40 minute acupuncture session. I will go for two weeks, four days a week, while my muscle heals. Great stuff. I might not have to pay for anything at the hospital. It depends what the doctor suggests. I can barely walk. Sucks to be in Seoul with a muscle injury. Walking is a way-of-life here.
I am very happy about several things.
- I begin teaching night classes at my public school next week. My classes will consist of 20 hour courses over a five week period. I will begin teaching Idioms: Everyday Expressions I, II, and III. I get paid after I complete each 20 hour period. It's good, legal pay, and I can use the money to pay off the credit-card debt I created while I lived with my folks in Ohio and like a bum, refused to work. Of course, I was sulking about Andrea dumping me and having to possibly leave Denver for an extended period of time. But you softboys out there know how tough it is when another woman dumps us because of who we are. Whine, Whine, I know.
- I am writing again, and in a focused manner.
- I was invited to join a soccer club: Samsung High School Club. I get my uniform and equipment next Sunday. It's too bad I am injured and won't be playing again for two weeks, but I am happy becoming a more significant member of my community.
- I have made several friends already. Jang Jinho and Kim Sooyoung are great folks. I am learning Korean quicker than anybody expected. But I have good help. I hope with these two I can create lasting friendships.
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