"Bethany, I'm going to be on a televised game show."
"WHAT?"
"My students are on it. I'm pretty confused right now. I thought it was a radio show, but it's taped and I'm reading the script now."
"You're kidding. What time does it start?"
"1:30pm. There's a big, gaudy set and everything. I have to read the questions, and I would have shaved this morning if I had known!"
---
FAME. If I ever harbored a desire to experience life as a celebrity, my curiosity's been well indulged. After many months of this job, I continue to hear my name screamed and chanted as I walk through the school (except some clever kids decided that "Bethany" sounds like "battery" so they frequently shout that instead), people stop and stare in restaurants and on buses, I've been asked to join in photos with strangers on the street, and the ease of access to media channels continues to work in my favor. The same is true for my comrades, to frequent delight.
In addition to the opening example (which reportedly went well enough, after he recovered from the shock), another friend shares a bizarre story from his school's parent visitation day. He explains, "The principal came to my desk 20 minutes before the parents were to arrive. He told me, "Please make an announcement to the students in about 25 minutes. 'What would you like for me to tell them?'", he asked. The principal replied, " 'Just think about it'. And he walked away". The content of my friends' announcement over the school's PA system? Irrelevant. The sound of English echoing through the halls? Impressive.
The nation of Korea invited us with the expectation that we'd speak English. Classroom English counts for the majority of it, but I've come to expect spontaneous conversations with taxi drivers, passersby on the sidewalk, and most anyone under the age of seven. Thanks to opportunities made available through a couple of friends, I also get to flaunt my native language on the English radio program this coming week, and I'm training in Ashtanga yoga to assist with an English after school yoga class at a studio near my school. There's also a chance for me to lead an English yoga class for teachers at my school, but I'll need more practice first!
Though I can't fully speak for the experience of teachers living in larger cities, like Seoul and Busan, it seems that some of the enthusiastic response to foreigners there has waned. Trips to both places produced a level of distaste even among the members of my group, as we nearly took offense to the sight of so many western-looking faces. Grown accustomed to our appearance setting us apart from everyone else on the street, strolling through a foreigner-packed area reminds us of the culture shock we're likely to experience upon arrival at home. Meanwhile, a typical week in Gwangju feels something like this:
Thanks to a few negative interactions, I'm acutely aware that making a good impression goes beyond the immediate moment. Take, for example, the night my friends and I were rejected from a club prior to entering. Swallowing the weird phrase, "NO FOREIGNERS" while watching a group of Korean people walk directly into the building felt incredibly unreal. We were dressed appropriately for the venue, no one was acting distastefully, and the determining factor came down to our ethnicity. Sometime in the past, another group of foreigners, or perhaps several, ruined it for everyone. Thanks a lot, guys.
Discrimination is unpleasant. I get it, though. Living in an intensely homogeneous society where I don't speak the language creates an immediate spotlight effect onto my very presence. Children greet me with, "Hello, teacher!", even when I'm wearing sunglasses and feeling oh-so-Korean with my new haircut and outfits. Within the same week, I can receive a discount when buying shoes because, as a Korean friend translated, I "look like a magazine picture", and can also be overcharged at a restaurant because I obviously can't read the menu. It's simultaneous helplessness and empowerment, and I've grown accustomed to its quiet tension.
Yet, until and unless I establish myself as legitimate member of Korean society, weird run-ins will continue. Basic improvements include, but are not limited to, learning the language, trying a little harder to fit in, and spending more time with Korean friends. Without that, I'll remain separated, along with my sweet group of chatty English-speakers: frequently appreciated, occasionally scammed, and most often scrutinized from a distance.
On that note... I do need to study Korean. I have a test to pass in only three weeks from now!
Much Love,
Bethany ^_^
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