How to Teach- Part 2

Before I moved to Korea, the content of the following video provided almost the entirety of my education on Korean education. For a new teacher, the rigor of it all sounded like a promise for effortless classroom management. The content of the video supports what I've since discovered, but academic intensity only goes so far. Take a peek at the video. After that, I'll fill in some gaps.

When I ask my students, "What did you do last weekend?", they scream (or yawn) "STUDY!". As if anything could possibly change from one weekend to the next, I always press them further, "And what else did you do?", knowing full well their answers will be, "Studieeeeeed! And played computer games!". Like an idiot, I hope desperately that some kid in the class will tell me a different story: went on a picnic, went to the movie theater, read a book... for FUN. Something feels oddly amiss here. Since I'm in no position to make real changes, my most subversive actions include telling students that rest is good, playing and having fun are good, and you can even do better in school if you're not overly stressed. Making those comments always leaves me feeling a little like a rebel. 

While I search out videos and articles on educational philosophy that suggest other methods of learning (and, no, I don't think the US has it all figured out either), my students stampede their way from one class to the next. In short form, the next video provides a spot-on depiction of a student's day, right down to the metal lunch trays. My students confirmed it when I showed them the video, begging for repeats and shrieking with laughter.

This video always deserves a repeat! 

Korean students spend a full day in school, enjoy a brief break around 4 pm during which time they inhale hotdogs from the street vendors, take music lessons, or play computer games in a PC room (they call it a pee-shee bong, bong= room), and then head to hagwons for more classes until 10pm. As the first video noted, many students attend classes on the weekends at hagwons now that public school classes only run from Monday through Friday. In the past, Guest English Teachers were permitted a two day weekend, while Korean teachers continued to work on Saturdays as well. The school year is longer this year as a result of the change. 

I won't pretend that every moment of my after-school life gleamed with productive activities as a kid, though I question whether free time always results in time poorly spent. Developmental research consistently shows the value of creative play, and there's so very little time for it here. The students are more than capable of it when given the opportunity. Because, in the midst of the intensity, kids are still kids and ridiculousness is never far. To illustrate this, I've assembled a few brilliant moments from my classroom, as well as several shared by my fellow English teachers throughout the past couple of months. 

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"Just went to check on a group of 16 year old students who'd been accidentally left unsupervised for half an hour. This is what I busted them getting up to. Not exactly what I would have expected in this situation back home...."

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Fun little story from the other day: I've been conducting an American culture/history trivia game with my students. One of the questions was, "Americans celebrate their freedom on this day."
Every student wrote down "Friday" as their answer.

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Student: "Teacher, how to spell shupple dance?" 
The teacher looks down at the paper and finds the student has written "supple dance". A seductive dance, surely, but further conversation clarifies that the desired term is "shuffle dance." 

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I entered a classroom today, only to be welcomed by a kid strumming a guitar and shrieking, "BETHANY, I LOOOOVE YOU! I LOOOOVE YOU!", until he dropped to the ground laughing (still strumming and singing). 

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Teacher: hey ladies! Do any of you have hairspray?
Girls: (completely serious) No teacher, we really don't use stuff for our hair. You should ask the boys for that.

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While editing the school's English newspaper, I came across a sentence that read: "Olympic national team members' passion which is hotter than summer bore irreplaceable fruit." I just left it. It was one of the best sentences on the page.

More to come ;)

How to Teach- Part 1

"You need to meet with the principal. It's very important."

"Okay, sure. How soon?"

"As soon as you can. She really wants to talk with you."

Had I offended someone? Do my teaching techniques need an overhaul? Despite some reassurance from Younga, I feel anxious for the few weeks it takes to finally arrange a meeting time. I hadn't visited with the principal, whom my students refer to as "Triangle Kimbap" due to an unfortunate hairstyle choice, since the first day I arrived in Gwangju. It was on that same day that we crossed paths at EMart, at which point I'd stocked my cart with only two items: wine and toilet paper. Watching her gaze drift over my cart, I said so-long to the stellar first impression I'd made an hour earlier.

Since then, I'd hoped that months of enthusiastic teaching had removed any concerns for my sobriety, but I wasn't sure. When I'm finally summoned for the Very Important Meeting, Younga leads the way to the office as I mentally prepare for the surely uncomfortable conversation about to ensue. We sit. The principal smiles. Someone brings tea. As she begins to speak, Younga translates the following series of questions while I nod and respond, waiting for the eventual smack-down:

"Are you happy here?"
Yes, very.

"How is your health?"
Improved, thank you.

"How is your apartment?"
Wonderful, ideal.

"Do you eat only bread?"
No... I love vegetables and fruit and many things that are not bread...?
Younga assures the principal that I break western stereotypes by eating Korean food often and only eating bread occasionally. The principal is delighted.

A discussion of my opinion on the school, my co-teachers, and job satisfaction follows, coming to an abrupt end with Younga's following translation: "She is envious of your youth, and she says you look like Brooke Shields from Endless Love. Do you have any further questions for her?" Entirely caught off guard, I thank the principal for her kind words and for the opportunity to work at her school. Conversation ends.

A photo from my meeting with the principal.

Everything I told the principal was true: I'm definitely happy here and I only shove my face with loaves of bread when I'm way too tired to cook. Overall, I've found co-teaching to be the greatest challenge of this job, since it requires equal parts humility and assertiveness to establish a healthy balance of power. Learning to accommodate the personality differences of five different co-teachers throughout the week, while an intuitive audience of 40 or so middle school students watch our every move, I regularly get a vigorous work-out in interpersonal skills. 

The majority of my English teaching friends were left to run the classroom alone from day one, but the teachers at my school actively attend and engage in every class. Any time I'm tempted to compare my situation to a particularly intense semester of student teaching, I remember how very many techniques I've picked up from co-teachers and feel less frustrated. Still, it leaves me a bit anxious to manage a class on my own, whether in the U.S., Taiwan, or another school in Korea. To anyone hoping for a definitive answer on my future plans, I still have no idea. 

Communication with the other teachers in the school remains limited thanks to my nearly total lack of focus in learning the language, though I feel welcome and comfortable with every bow and "annyeounghaseo" exchanged in the hallways. Younga gives me reports like, "So-and-so said she saw you downtown the other day" or "A teacher from the first floor lounge said your dress is pretty", which reminds me that I'm included even when I feel like I'm just drifting among them or exchanging a simple "맛있어요!" (mashisoyo- delicious) comment over a snack in the teachers' lounge.  

Occasionally, my inclusion is more pronounced. Take, for example, the day I was asked to make a speech about traveling for my school's tv program. On this lovely Thursday morning, both students and staff watched the video and were provided with a script I presubmitted under the illusion that one of my co-teachers needed to review it first. Instead, I watched in horror as the script circulated through classrooms and teachers' lounges as a homework assignment, topic for class discussions (not my classes!), and point of conversation among teachers (or so I was told). It's one of many times I've discovered that my words mean WAY more than I think they do, particularly when I don't expect them to mean much at all. 

More on daily life at school to come. I've been compiling a mix of quotes and stories for a while now, so I'll be editing my way through the pile over the next week. For now, I'm going to spend a while googling my doppelganger, Brooke Shields, or maybe just stare in the mirror trying to see myself through the eyes of a 60-something Korean principal. Or not.