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.