Endings and Beginnings (14 January)

The day’s lessons seem to fly by with one exception.  Since it is the last day of winter camp (for the freshmen at least), the timetable is slightly different to that of the rest of the week so I cover today’s conversation lesson.  NZ2 has told me of the type of speaking activities he’s been doing in class and I work from his notes.  However, despite this approach, the lesson appears to be an epic (no pun intended!) fail and the students definitely seem to prefer NZ2 to me. 

Bad Chopsticks!

Today really does not seem to be my day as lunchtime is just as awkward as the conversation class.  First, I accidentally snub the gorgeous Mr Maths by not sitting in the seat next to him at lunch (which is apparently where I’m meant to sit following a seating arrangement that I still don’t quite understand), then I discover that, although I’m sitting next to Mr Jeong, I’m also sitting diagonally opposite Six-pack who is sitting between Mr Maths and Mr Baek.  It’s not a good chopsticks day for me and my hand is seriously cramping from my iron-tight grip on the chopsticks in an attempt not to embarrass myself.  It’s this very sight which seems to amuse Six-pack and Mr Baek (among other teachers) who pass various comments on my chopstick skills.  I’m tired and my hand is sore so I’m not in the mood for even joking comments but I try to smile and be gracious about the jokes nonetheless while I feebly attempt to eat some lunch.  Before I know it, the day’s lessons are done and it’s time to move to Dandelion Hall for the closing ceremony of the freshmen’s winter camp.

Help You? Sure!

On Wednesday and Thursday night, I spent 30 minutes helping a freshmen student to practise his English poem that he is reading in today’s winter camp closing ceremony.  My co-teachers seem to find it very strange that I voluntarily came back to school at 19:00 twice in one week just to help a student.  What they don’t seem to understand is that the students don’t ask for help very often – at least, not from the foreign teachers – so I jump at every opportunity when they do ask for my help because it shows that I’m not just a non-entity as far as they’re concerned.  I only aim to win over one student; anything more is a bonus.  The results are also worthwhile: Seeing that student on stage, a little bit more confident thanks to 60 minutes of my time, is far more rewarding that sitting at home playing around on the internet or our drinking with other foreigners.

Endings

It’s impressive to see the various classes perform things from their different lessons of the past two weeks – particularly when considering that some of these students have only just started learning Spanish, Japanese or Chinese during the two weeks of camp.  The students are all in high spirits as they leave the auditorium and I’m feeling a bit cheeky when a group of them call “Sarah teacher” behind me in the corridor as we’re leaving.  I know from the sheer volume of these voices that these are students from 102 so I match the volume and quality of their voices much to the amusement of several teachers and the confusion of several parents as we chat while heading back to the main school building.  One of the teachers later comments that it’s been a while since he’s seen new students take such an instant liking to a foreign teacher which I take as a compliment.  I’m touched when several of my students take the time to say goodbye to me and tell me that they’ll miss me; I’m even more touched when one of them brings me chocolates to say thank you for teaching her. 

Winter camp is finally over and I find myself a little sad that I won’t see these students again until the beginning of March.  We’ve just been told that the second part of the camp, scheduled for early February, has been cancelled by the Department of Education due to lack of funding.  With camp over, school will once again be running on skeletal staff and it’s a little depressing. 

Exciting Beginnings

As I head home for the weekend, I think of the news that my fantastic co-teacher shared with me earlier about her brother getting married the next day.  I’ve heard a lot about Korean weddings and hope to attend one while in Korea.  I didn’t see her before she left so I send her a text message wishing her well for the wedding and everything that she has to organise.  I’m barely home when she sends me a text message inviting me to the wedding.  Now I feel awkward.  I hope that she doesn’t feel obliged to invite me and I know that she’s going to be busy with family obligations so, as much as I’d love to attend the wedding, I feel that I shouldn’t and this is what I tell in a text message.  Clearly, I still haven’t learned lesson two!  In the mean time, I ask NZ2 for advice and he tells me to attend the wedding.  Catfish also tells me to attend it and then asks if I feel like Galbi for dinner – it turns out we both had unsatisfying lunches at school today.

I’m just about to phone my co-teacher to accept the invitation when she phones me.  It’s no imposition at all and she’d love to have me attend the wedding if I don’t mind travelling to Jeonju which she thinks is relatively far away.  I’m very excited to attend my first Korean wedding, which is what I tell her perhaps a little too enthusiastically, and she gives me the basic details with a promise to text me the address in Korean to show to a taxi driver.  I all but skip out of my apartment to meet Catfish who is already at the Galbi waiting for me with her Culture Shock book and the section on weddings earmarked for me.  I have to buy this book!

Galbi is as satisfying a meal as ever – perhaps even more satisfying than usual since we end up ordering a third portion to share instead of one each as we usually do; the staff seem to find this a bit amusing but happily comply.  It’s a compliment to the restaurant that we obviously enjoy the food!  We discuss the upcoming wedding and generally catch up on the week’s events – it’s mindboggling just how busy a week in Korea can be even when you think you’re not doing much.  There are any number of things that can, and do, happen that make the days memorable and these have to be shared with special friends who appreciate them as much as I do! 

From Galbi, we move to Angel-in-us for coffee and a continuation of our chat that seems to digress and bounce back to the various topics we simultaneously discuss.  Close to midnight, we rush down to Lotte mart to try to find a wedding card of some sort.  Catfish ends up singing the traditional Western wedding march in an attempt to explain what it is that we’re looking for but her current victims understand this to be an enquiry as to what time the store closes: We have 20 minutes.  We head to the stationery aisle with our fingers tightly crossed for luck as we laugh over several “Oh Korea” moments and generally de-stress after a busy two weeks of winter camp.

Torturing Korean Students…Unintentionally, of Course! (13 January)

I arrive at school this morning, running slightly late as usual, to find Six-pack in my office talking to the teacher in charge of the first grade students.  They both greet me as I enter the otherwise deserted office and watch with apparent curiosity as I subconsciously begin multitasking in an attempt to prepare myself for my 9:00am lesson.  I still haven’t got around to tying back my hair which I am impatiently, and constantly, flicking over my shoulder. 

I quickly run upstairs to the third floor to double check an error in today’s lesson and am flicking my hair over my shoulder as I re-enter my office where Six-pack is talking to the head teacher whose desk happens to be next to mine.  I can feel them watching me with amused grins as I continue to flick my hair in irritation before eventually tying it back.  It’s only as I head back upstairs to my first class that it hits me: I probably looked like I was trying to flirt – very badly – with Six-pack when I was genuinely just annoyed with having my hair in my face.  Perhaps that explains his sudden friendliness this morning and why, when I later encounter him on the stairs with NZ2, he’s less than friendly and even scowls at me that afternoon.  I chalk it up to another crazy ‘Oh Korea’ moment that I probably won’t understand as I enter my first lesson for the day.

Homogeneity at it's Best

My Korean students are generally very sweet and diligent.  They also seem to demonstrate homogeneity at it’s best by all voicing the same core concerns with regard to their studies: Other students are smarter, work harder and are just generally better than all of them – especially in English.  These students are encouraged to push themselves to the point of exhaustion and beyond; there’s simply no time for them to get tired or even sick.  It’s probably not the most effective system but I’ve learned to accept it and just work around the fact that I’ll almost always have at least one student per class who is sleeping or otherwise engaged in work other than English; it’s not necessarily a reflection on me – it’s just part of Korean student life and priorities. 

Koreans have an incessant drive for perfection and the need to excel.  It’s interesting that it’s never phrased as a desire to be the best since that contradicts the collectivist approach of this society.  Of course, this drive for perfection can have it’s drawbacks and create situations where the foreign English teacher seems to move into the role of masochist rather than friendly instructor who genuinely wants to help students improve their English speaking and writing abilities and confidence. 

You Want Me To Do What!

The first way to torture Korean students is to make them speak English…in the English conversation lesson.  I get the impression that most of my students would be more willing to write additional tests and exams than have to speak up in an English conversation class and my students are probably not unique in this avoidance.  There are, of course, some students who will always offer at least a few sentences or an opinion in each class and I can understand that listening to the apparent ‘fluency’ of such students is intimidating for those who don’t feel anywhere near the same level of confidence in their own English skills.  Sadly, not even my constant reassurance that no matter how poor they may consider their English to be, it’s guaranteed to be better than my Korean seems to have much effect these days.  Even sadder is that this extends to many of my Korean colleagues too who genuinely don’t seem to believe me when I tell them that their “bad Englishee” is still far, far superior to my miniscule Korean skills!

Breaking Up is Hard To Do

The second way to torture Korean students is to ask them not to speak and write via their electronic Korean-English dictionaries.  Announcing that students will not be allowed to use their dictionaries for a particular task is tantamount to announcing a death sentence.  As I gaze back at their shocked faces, I see my own reflection changing in their eyes as I rapidly transform from the sweet, kind English teacher to a monster wielding an axe and delighting in their misery.  I have yet to see a student cry at this announcement but I’ve certainly witnessed several of them close to tears and definitely in agony at the knowledge that no dictionaries are allowed.  I don’t have the heart to actually physically remove the dictionaries that are still being surreptitiously used beneath the desk – who knows how that might end!

Wagging Tongues (11 January)

The last thing I did before going to bed last night was check my emails and Facebook messages and I’m glad that I did or I would have walked into school this morning with no warning and no understanding of what could possibly be happening.  NZ2 has decided to propose to his Japanese girlfriend whom I met just after Christmas when she visited Korea.  He told us a week ago that he had decided to propose and we’re all thrilled by this news!  The teachers at our school, however, seem to have other ideas…

You Thought What?

NZ2 apparently asked Mr Jeong, one of my co-teachers, about how easy it was for NZ1 to bring his wife to Korea on a spousal visa.  When Mr Jeong asked him why he was asking, NZ2 told him about his prospective wife.  This apparently surprised Mr Jeong who then confessed that he and some of the other teachers had been talking and thought that NZ2 and I should get together as we get along well with one another.  The irony of this message is that, just last night, I’d been telling Catfish that several teachers at my school seemed to suspect that NZ2 and I were involved in more than just a working relationship for several understandable reasons.    

First, we do get along well. He reminds me of my older brother, is able to give good advice on things in Korea, and is just goofy most of the time so it’s fun to hang out with him.  Second, we’ve spent a lot of time together outside of school because we’ve signed up for the same Adventure Korea trips – there were always at least 30 other people with us on each of these trips but no one that the Korean teachers at my school will likely ever hear of.  Third, yes, our holiday time was over the same period but that’s because we both had friends visiting (ironically both from Japan) at Christmas time.  In addition, there are only three possible weeks in which to take our winter vacation so it’s inevitable that the time is going to overlap at some point.  I can understand that from an outsider’s view, it would seem that NZ2 and I are more than just friends but they do only see part of the picture and they’re trying to connect dots that aren’t there.

A Korean Approach

The entire situation is rather comical.  It’s such a Korean approach to be trying to play matchmaker since they all seem to try and get married by the age of 30.  I’ve heard so many people say that Koreans over the age of 30 are almost always dating to marry because there’s so much social pressure on them to get married.  It’s also natural for family and friends to help unmarried people to meet potential spouses in order to expedite their transition from the pathos of being single to being ‘happily married’ – Koreans don’t seem to cope well with being single probably because of their collectivist approach in general.  In Korean age (which is a year older than Western age), I’m already 30 and unmarried; NZ2 is 42 in Korean age and still unmarried so it’s understandable I suppose that our colleagues are approaching this from a Korean perspective while we’re approaching it from our Western perspective.  We love the cultural differences that don’t allow for two single foreigners of a certain age, and opposite sex, to be JUST friends!

Fortunately, NZ2’s message has given me enough warning to be able to identify the reason for today’s gossip – and believe me: that wheel is turning.  Good news travels fast – so fast, in fact, that I’ve barely made it through the front door of my school when I encounter the first curious looks and hushed conversations. 

You Spoke...in English!

I’m grateful for the distraction of my morning classes – particularly when Malicious Boy attempts to answer (correctly) several questions in English much to my surprise!  However, by the time I finish my lesson with 102, I’m exhausted by their incessant and bubbly conversations that never seem to end.  Hyunju makes a quick escape at the end of each lesson with 102 and I find myself increasingly remaining in the classroom just generally chatting with the students by the time the next teacher arrives for the next lesson.  I’m not sure who is more surprised to find me still in the classroom at the start of the next lesson: Me or the Korean teachers who seem flummoxed to find a foreign teacher just chatting with students who never seem to run out of things to say.

Unfortunately, I have no work to do this afternoon which leads me to wander around the school aimlessly looking for things to do.  Mr Jeong seems slightly uncomfortable to see me and somewhat taken aback when I ask if there’s anything with which I can help him since he’s having to take photos and video clips of the winter camp lessons.  He assures me that he has everything under control and that students are helping with the technical things with which he is not as successful – I wouldn’t be any use with that anyway.  He tells me to enjoy my freedom and watch a movie or something which I don’t quite feel comfortable doing at school since I feel that I should be working. However, this is exactly what I end up doing out of sheer boredom.

As I catch up on television programmes I’ve missed, I manage to forget about al the bustle happening around me and the gossip wheel that seems to be spinning frantically.  The sight of large snowflakes outside is magnificent and the first thought that comes to mind as I settle back comfortably to enjoy my movie is It’s like being in a giant snow globe! The only thing missing is a blanket and popcorn….

I Look Korean? (10 January)

After a weekend of procrastinating over my marking, I’m finally almost finished commenting on all of my students’ journals which need to be handed back today.  Fortunately, today should be a relatively stress-free day since my students will have the entire lesson to type up their best writing from last week’s lessons for the portfolio of writing to commemorate the ADEPT program.  I can’t help wondering how much the school spends on printing costs for things like this but it looks impressive and that’s probably more important than the cost.

Since the students only have to type one piece of writing, I’m anticipating a fairly easy three hours of class today.  It’s unusual for students here to constantly ask for help in a lesson so I’m very surprised when I realise that in two of my classes, I barely have a chance to register the start and end of each lesson as I keep moving from one student question to the next.  It makes the lessons go by far more quickly than usual and it’s genuine footage for Mr Jeong to film for the video clip he’s making for Friday’s closing ceremony.

I also have an opportunity to just chat with some of my students once they finish their work and I can’t help but laugh when I see one of them looking through photos (of me and the Kiwis) from our school festival which a senior student has posted on her webpage.  Another student makes me laugh even more when she shows me a picture of a Korean woman who is apparently a television star here – and then proceeds to tell me that, in her opinion, this is who I resemble in appearance.  I’ve been told increasingly often over the last few weeks that my mannerisms are very Korean but this is the first time I’ve been told that I look Korean! 

My Personal Challenge

My students seem to genuinely like me – except for the majority of 104 which is still a bit of a challenge.  I’ve also given considerable thought to Malicious Boy and realised that it would be so easy to request that I not have him as a student in the new year but the reality is that, at some point, I’m going to have to deal with him or a student like him – and I already have dealt with similar students in South Africa. 

I’m actually looking forward to the challenge of finding a way to win him over since I firmly believe that he’s actually quite intelligent and has simply had a negative experience with either English teachers or foreign English teachers in particular.  He’s also lived in China for the past two years so he may just be a little insecure.  Whatever the reason for his negativity towards my subject, I’ve spoken to other teacher friends and am determined to get him to participate positively in my lessons.

Conversing Waegook Style

The rest of the day passes fairly quickly and I’m soon meeting Catfish at our favourite Galbi restaurant where we can’t help noticing that we’re once again receiving more attention than most other customers.  It’s particularly entertaining when a mini-scuffle ensues between a male and female server who semi-tackle each other in their enthusiasm – the girl won and the guy stood only slightly to the side looking somewhat bashful as Catfish broke into uncontrollable giggles over the absurdity of the situation.  After dinner, we break with tradition only slightly by going to Angel-in-us (or AngeLInus as the Koreans call it) for coffee instead of Ediya Coffee. 

There, we continue with a typical ‘Western’ chat (ie lots of facial expressions and gestures) much to the amusement of the staff who seem to find us fascinating to watch – or maybe they were just wishing that we would leave.  However, we redeem ourselves by waving and greeting all of the kids who are in the coffee shop and playing with a toddler at the next table.  This is something that we do regularly but in Korea, it’s looked upon very favourably – Koreans like kids so if you show that you like kids, and the kids respond well to you (which, being foreign, most of them giggle and laugh just because we look and sound different), then it seems to be assumed that you’re a good person.

Lotte Mart and the Time Warp

Our final destination for the evening is Lotte mart where Catfish needs to purchase aluminium foil.  Culture shock is a strange little bugger that settles in very unusual and unexpected areas of our lives at random moments.  This is why some foreigners are literally scared to leave their apartments some weekends (I have had several weekends like this in my time in Korea) and grocery shopping and department stores can suddenly seem overwhelming and terrifying.  For Catfish, Lotte mart has become a sort of nemesis – she’s scared to go grocery shopping by herself but she needs aluminium foil for her winter camp lesson the next day so duty calls.

At the best of times, Lotte mart is a sensory overload: there are so many bright colours, neon arrows and singing promotional signs, in-store promoters who helpfully try to help you find the best deal (even when it’s clear that you don’t understand Korean and they don’t speak English), overpowering smells (Catfish can’t stand the fish section where you choose your live fish and I can’t stand the meat section – although you don’t choose meat from live animals behind the counter in this section!), repetitive jingles and more.  In addition, Lotte mart is a bit like being in a casino: It’s so brightly lit and there’s so much activity that you can easily lose three or four hours in this four-storey building without really accomplishing or buying much.  As a result, it’s not unusual to see foreigners shopping in pairs; in fact, it’s somewhat advisable to bring reinforcements on any shopping trip because two foreigners is more intimidating than just one.

Aruminium Poil

Our main mission tonight is to find aluminium foil for Catfish although I do also need to some grocery shopping while we’re here.  It doesn’t take us long to round up the few items we’re each looking for – except the elusive aluminium foil.  In American and South African stores, aluminium foil would be stocked in the general grocery section which is where we’re looking.  Recognising that this is the Western-logic-approach that is so frequently unsuccessful in Korea – and tiring of having fought our way through the late night shoppers and the same aisles one too many times – Catfish approaches a store employee and asks for hep.  The immediate response is the deer-caught-in-headlights/the waegook-is-talking-to-me look but we’re patient and Catfish smiles encouragingly while carefully enunciating what we’re looking for.  Still no luck.  Aluminium foil is not exactly something you can mime but Catfish tries still to no success.

I then decide to make one more circuit of the nearby aisles to see if I can find anything similar or possibly even aluminium foil itself while Catfish continues trying to explain it to this unfortunate victim since my mini-dictionary has failed me once more.  When I return, Catfish is speaking to someone on the phone which I presume is her co-teacher, Miss Kim.  It’s only when she hands the phone back to the employee that I realise that this woman has gone out of her way, using her personal phone, to find someone who speaks more English than her in an attempt to better assist us – such is the overwhelming kindness demonstrated by Koreans on a regular basis.  Her face lights up as she listens to the translation of aluminium foil via the person on the other end of the phone conversation and she quickly grabs Catfish’s hand and leads her to the escalator.  On the second floor, in the aisle next to the car section, is the kitchen storage section of Lotte mart: This is where we find aRuminium Poil (as it’s called in Korean)! Catfish has a far more descriptive, and detailed, account of this particular adventure in her blog which I can highly recommend.

'l/ vs /r/ and /f/ Challenges

Koreans struggle to distinguish between and /l/ and /r/ sound (the Korean character ㄹ is the same for both of these sounds and the sound is determined by the placement of the character in each syllable) and there is no /f/ sound in Korean.  We already know and understand this.  What we don’t know – and can’t understand – is that if this is true, what did this particular woman hear differently in Catfish’s pronunciation of “aLuminium Foil” and the Korean pronunciation of “aRuminium Poil”?  That is perhaps a mystery that will never be solved.

My Friends Are Bigger Than Yours (6 January)

Disliking a student is exhausting! It’s also disheartening and generally not a great experience.  Malicious Boy, as he’s now known, is my own personal challenge it seems and he seems to be approaching this task in true Korean spirit – by giving it 100% of his effort. 

While my other two classes seem to have warmed up to me over the course of the three lessons we’ve had so far, 104 is definitely not following this pattern.  I thought Korea was supposed to be homogenous?  I can tell the class to conform but that will probably only worsen the situation in the long run or I can try to win over the students one at a time.  Unfortunately, Malicious Boy seems to have had the same idea as me and has had a head-start implementing his strategy.  He’s started to win over the boys who sit around him.  Hyunju tries to appease the situation by telling the students that this is their English class and I am their English teacher so they need to direct their questions to me and speak English.  She’s extremely supportive and only speaks English herself during the lesson which helps to show the students that I have some authority in the classroom and the support of the Korean teacher.

You Missed the Point!

As the lesson progresses, I realise that Malicious Boy seems to have successfully converted the boy next to him to the ‘dark side’.  Unfortunately, I realise this when, during the exercise the class is doing in pairs, I ask them why they’re not discussing the work.  They respond that neither of them can speak English – in almost flawless English and with an almost flawless accent!  The lesson continues in this manner and I eventually decide to address the entire class on this matter: All I ask is that they try to speak English just as I try to speak Korean outside of the classroom.  Malicious Boy’s latest convert mutters something in Korean that makes the rest of the class laugh so I calmly respond, in Korean, that I don’t speak Korean very well and then ask them, in English, to please speak English.  Malicious Boy takes this opportunity to correct my Korean pronunciation much to the classes delight and the annoyance of Hyunju who is currently standing behind him with her head raised high and ready to wallop him.  I can’t help but laugh which eases some of the tension. 

Revenge is Sweet...

I then approach Hyunju to find out if she knows who the homeroom teacher is for this particular class.  She doesn’t but she quickly manipulates the class into giving her this information – in Korean.  As soon as she has the information, she turns to me from across the room and says, “Homeroom teacher is Mr Baek.  When you talk to him later like you normally do, you can discuss the behaviour problems in this class.”  With one ingenious comment, Hyunju silences the class and manages to convey that not only do I, a mere waegook, know their homeroom teacher but I seem to know him well enough that we chat, informally, regularly – which is actually true!  In addition, I clearly have the support of more than one Korean teacher at the school which is probably something that they’re not used to seeing with foreign teachers.  In all honesty, they’re probably also not used to foreign teachers who actually care enough to object to a negative attitude towards English.  Mercifully, the bell rings not long after that and I’m not sure who is more relieved that the lesson is over: Me or my students. 

I send Mr Baek a message after lunch, via our internal messenger system, asking if I can come and talk to him about 104 this afternoon.  He responds by coming down to my office to see me in person and I feel somewhat guilty when he opens with, “You have a problem with my class?” with a rather distraught look on his face.  I’m quick to reassure him that I don’t have a problem with the entire class and that I would simply like to ask if he could shuffle the class so that the boys and girls are mixed since the boys seem to be having a slightly negative influence on one another.  Fortunately, Hyunju walks into my office just at that moment and comes over to confirm, with a sigh and a roll of her eyes, that it is indeed just one boy – Malicious Boy.  Mr Baek promises me he’ll look into the situation and rushes off to his next lesson leaving me to wonder how, exactly, he’ll deal with the problem at hand.

Talk to Me…in English (3 – 5 January)

America has summer school programs for students while in South Africa (and only at some schools) we are encouraged to attend winter school programs in our final year of high school in areas where we feel we may need extra assistance.  In Korea, students seem to plan everything else around their school schedule and have a never-ending bout of summer and winter programs. 

You Thought What?

My understanding of the winter vacation was that the students would have nearly a two month vacation that they have more than earned, the new freshmen would have to attend a two week long ADEPT program that would help them to adjust to high school life and give them a lot of exposure to English to try and get them all more-or-less at the same level and, finally, that the school would be running on skeletal staff.  Imagine my surprise and confusion when I arrive at school on Monday morning, ready to tackle winter camp, only to discover that not only are most of the teachers back at school but so are most of the students – with a full self-study timetable to boot!

No Time For Ready and Steady - Just Teach

I know that we don’t have any lessons for the first day so it’s a bit of a surprise when, at 10:10am, my fantastic co-teacher (she really is great!) asks me to come upstairs so that she can discuss the conversation classes that we need to do.  More confused than ever, nothing can prepare me for the surprise notice that there are students waiting for us in two venues for conversation lessons that we haven’t had time to prepare.  Fortunately, I’m now much better at identifying moments such as this one as “Oh Korea…” moments and moving on with what needs to be done rather than dwelling on the limited notice.  Besides, aside from an hour of conversation classes, all that we have to do today is attend the welcoming ceremony for the freshmen in the auditorium where we’ll be introduced to the new students before continuing with our busy schedules whiling away the afternoon in the coldest weather we’ve yet had in Gunsan.

The second day of camp is far more productive since it involves actual lessons.  NZ2 and I had already agreed upon the class division in December so I have classes all morning leaving me with an afternoon free.  This also means that I won’t be able to take the conversation classes for the next two weeks so NZ2 will have to combine the two groups until then.  NZ2 and I each have a Spanish (102), Japanese (104) and Chinese (106) major class.  Experience with the previous year’s first graders predisposes me to the Spanish major classes as their English proficiency is generally higher and they’re usually more talkative; the Japanese and Chinese classes are generally evenly tied with one fairly strong group and one weaker group in each language major.  This group is no exception.

Getting Started

My first class is with the Chinese major students (106).  I enter the class with feigned confidence and hope that the lesson goes well.  In the midst of introducing myself, one of the Korean teachers walks in with the daily journals to hand out…and stays.  This is when I figure out, since she shows no sign of leaving, that I’ll have a Korean English Teacher with me in each lesson – something that adds a new dynamic to the lessons since I’ve never worked directly with Hyunju before.  It doesn’t long, however, before we’re both commenting on the very segregrated seating arrangements in which they’ve organised themselves: Boys on one side, girls on the other and the widest gap possible between the two sides!  As we leave the room, our first impression, and comment, is: They’re so young!

Confident for the next lesson – and now being more familiar with the structure of these lessons – I head for my Spanish major class (102) which is even more entertaining that my first class.  This particular class has only three boys and they’re well integrated by the look of things.  I can’t believe how talkative this class is and when I try to leave the classroom, they follow me down the corridor still chatting and asking questions – a pattern which seems to continue for the rest of the week and increases in enthusiasm the more time they spend with me.

I Understood That!

My final class is my Japanese class (104) and this is perhaps the most surprising – and seemingly hostile – of the three.  One of the boys looks like he’s hoping to be the seventh member of the K-pop group 2PM.  He seems uber-confident in many ways and is quick to lead other classmates astray.  His first words to me (in Korean I might add!): Speak Korean! It’s 10 minutes into this lesson and I officially have a student I don’t like and have dubbed “the malicious boy”…  In addition, this class seems to be as segregated as the Chinese students but they don’t share a similar sense of humour when we joke about this; in fact, they don’t seem to have much of a sense of humour at all. For the first time since arriving in Korea, I find myself in a situation where a co-teacher is literally translating every word I say in the lesson and it’s disheartening.  I leave the lesson wanting to cry and trying desperately to work out how to get through to this particular class.  The discrepancy between the three classes is unbelievable and it’s a bit like being on a rollercoaster: I have one amazing class that I can already tell I love (102), an average class that seems generally sweet and co-operative (106) and a class with one child who may just turn the next eight days of classes into my worst nightmare.

Breaking New 'Barriers'

It’s lunchtime and I’m starving.  I deliberately haven’t brought any lunch with me to school because I want to start having lunch with the rest of the Korean teachers so I ask Hyunju if I may join her for lunch.  Not only will this expose me to more Korean food than I currently eat, but I’m hoping that it will further endear me to them and, hopefully, lead to friendship with some of them instead of the ‘us’ and ‘them’ distinction that exists between the three GETs and the Korean teachers – that was forged, unintentionally, by the Kiwis and myself.  My appearance in the cafeteria doesn’t go unnoticed and I seem to have scored major brownie points with my fellow teachers by simply having lunch with them at school – if I’d only known what a difference this would make from the start….