It's odd that Thanksgiving would make me feel homesick. I never felt we had huge traditions, but I guess it was still something we celebrated in some way. Though I'm not sure exactly what I feel homesick for. Of course Thanksgiving dinner sounds wonderful - it's hard to not get a craving for turkey in a country where meat generally equals pork.
I woke up this morning telling myself I was going to be thankful all day because, let's face it, it's a good exercise to avoid being bitter and complain. Of course I woke up sick and had to work on grad school applications all morning, then got to work and realized I had all my report cards due today and at the same time, I'm seeing everyone's status updates about going home for break. Exhaustion, frustration and jealousy were definitely suffocating gratitude.
I wanted to be in France, I wanted to be in the States. I wanted to be in BED. I really did not want to be in an academy in Daejeon, ROK, teaching English to kids who, let's face it, should probably be outside playing.
But when it comes down to it, I am grateful for this opportunity that often leaves me feeling sad and lonely. This may seem counterintuitive, but it is a time for me to reflect, to know myself better.
I have learned that, unlike I would have expected (and maybe a couple years ago, this may have been true) I do not relish in seclusion and extreme solitude. I've felt the sting of loneliness, even when in so many ways, I am not alone.
I've also come to realized that no matter what grand ideals I may spout about cultural relativism and all, I value some cultures over others. This seems rather obvious since I'm by no means saying that there is a universal hierarchy, more that I have a personal hierarchy, in spite of myself.
Kids can make me feel really insecure, especially when they're speaking in a language I don't understand, and they try my patience to the unfortunate point at which I don't want to hear Korean spoken anymore... rather inconvenient.
I know this post is entitled "Giving Thanks" and it probably seems like I'm ranting more than anything (which may be somewhat true) but the point is, it's easy (-ish) to give thanks about happy things but because something is difficult does not mean it isn't valuable. So I am grateful for all these frustrating things, for all these sad times, for all these startling realizations, because I know there is so much to learn from them.
To end on a happier note:
I am grateful to those who have stood by me and supported me through insecurities and doubts
to the family who I know is always there for me, even when they are impossible to reach, even when they are thousands of miles away
to the friends who have made everywhere I go home.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Mirrors of Insecurity
This was not what I intended to write this next blog about. On the other hand, I also intended to write this post a month ago and did not intend to write it when I meant to be working on my personal statement for grad schools. But I'm working on getting used to things not going as I intend, so I've decided to go with it. (Picture by Courtney).
I was writing my personal statement and working on accounting for my year in Korea. Specifically I was thinking about how on the one hand, certain western standards seem to have become the norm, or at least the desired goal, while on the other hand, westernization is certainly not complete. Korea is not Western, even if it has adopted certain aspects of the Western world. Of course this could get us into a long discussion of what exactly is Western since even among Western countries, there are differences in values and norms but for the sake of simplicity, I'll stick to that term.
These thoughts on standards train of thought reminded me of a set of opposing interactions I've had here. On the one hand, I have found myself completely outside the beauty standard I suppose. These have for the most part just been amusing, like students telling me I'm a man because I am too tall to be a woman or asking me why I have yellow hair. Other moments have been more comparative, like a group of young men being told to "go Korean" for women because they'll age better and still look good when white girls will look old. On the other hand, I've had conversations with young women who want to get their hair died to look like mine, or worse, have plastic surgery to get their eyes changed so they look like mine.
While I feel self-conscious from getting weird looks in the street, it seems a lot of the young women I know here are struggling with what they should look like. There is a push to conform to the standard, but they aren't sure what the standard is.
As much as some comments or looks I get make me feel insecure whether they are from students or from random middle-aged women in the store, I am far more uncomfortable when I get sincere compliments from beautiful friends who want to change everything about themselves.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
On Names
When I introduce myself and people ask my name, I have one answer, whether they speak French, English, German, Japanese, Korean... I only want one answer, that is my name. I can't imagine people calling me anything other than Elyssa - or at least some phonetically distorted equivalent ^^. I expect my name to be said differently by a French speaker and an English speaker, and therefore every other language has its own version. Thus it is a strange thing to know people by English pseudonyms. As much as I can get annoyed when people butcher my name (by that I mean English speakers calling me Alyssa, or French speakers calling me Elise), I would much rather that to taking on a new name. Of course much of this may be habit, everyone may not feel the same way, but to me it is like a barrier to intimacy, to a certain part of people are.
The first time this came to mind was realizing I could not find many of my Korean friends on facebook. The second was talking to a co-teacher's boyfriend who introduced himself as "so-and-so's boyfriend" - using her Korean name, which I had never heard.
It made me curious to see if it was just about making life easier for us foreigners or if they enjoyed the idea of having an English nickname. Of 11 students I asked, two actually preferred their English names, but all the others preferred their Korean names and several seemed somewhat uneasy with their English names. Two of them were arbitrarily assigned their names on the first day of class by teachers and have had them since. Even if some do prefer having another name, the notion that every kid needs one seems misplaced. In one class there was this interesting love for English names combined with a preference for the Korean names. They found English names beautiful, as one student put it, but it wasn't them.
I'm probably thinking about this way too much (no surprise there, though), but I can't help wondering what our names mean to us, and what I am telling my kids when I call them by some randomly assigned nickname.
The first time this came to mind was realizing I could not find many of my Korean friends on facebook. The second was talking to a co-teacher's boyfriend who introduced himself as "so-and-so's boyfriend" - using her Korean name, which I had never heard.
It made me curious to see if it was just about making life easier for us foreigners or if they enjoyed the idea of having an English nickname. Of 11 students I asked, two actually preferred their English names, but all the others preferred their Korean names and several seemed somewhat uneasy with their English names. Two of them were arbitrarily assigned their names on the first day of class by teachers and have had them since. Even if some do prefer having another name, the notion that every kid needs one seems misplaced. In one class there was this interesting love for English names combined with a preference for the Korean names. They found English names beautiful, as one student put it, but it wasn't them.
I'm probably thinking about this way too much (no surprise there, though), but I can't help wondering what our names mean to us, and what I am telling my kids when I call them by some randomly assigned nickname.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Separation and Riches
I feel like I am failing at describing a particularly cultural experience in Korea (and failing at describing much of anything when I don't blog for over 2 weeks), but everything is interconnected. And sometimes it is simply through seeing something in a different context that you understand more about where you came from. A cross-cultural experience may be more revealing of the visitor than of the visited, you stare into these strange lands, faced with these new experiences, and what you see is yourself in a new light.
This does not start off as the most cheerful post, but it gets better, so bear with me. There's a reason why this blog's title includes the word "hermit". I have been known to say "I like being a hermit" and yes, freak that I am, it has occurred to me to take a few months to live in complete seclusion. Over the past few months, through a series of events (and a lot of phone calls), this view of myself had slowly begun to break down. However, there was enough left of the contentment with isolation that I was quite surprised at how this first birthday alone made me feel. From the minute I got on the subway in Seoul to head back to Daejeon, I knew that I was on my own for the rest of the day. There was something very daunting about that thought. I've often isolated myself, but this isolation was forced on me, not chosen. I realized that even at my most isolated moments, people around me had cared and been there for me in spite of myself and it wasn't that they didn't care, it was just that everyone was so far away.
When I got home and started seeing the birthday wishes from people all over, it meant so much and at the same time, it was so painful.
But in the following weeks, I started realizing that I may not have family here, or best friends, and every friendship doesn't just grow at miraculous speeds, but that doesn't mean there aren't new friends to be made, people around me. When it comes down to it, I may be separated from the people who know me best, but I'm not alone, and I can build new friendships.
Going out with people, hearing where they came from, what brought them here... all these different experiences make for such an eclectic, and fascinating picture. There's so much to learn, whether from the Koreans I meet, or the other foreigners. The separation can sometimes make it hard to see the richness that surrounds me in this situation.
One of my favorite things is building relationships with my students. Of course the better their English, the easier this is, since obviously Korean is not really an option. There are always those moments in my higher level classes when I can a get talking about something they're really excited about. And they just get carried away. I had the most quiet student alone in class, and I was able to ask him about things he cared about, and he talked for almost all of the 45 minutes. Granted, this isn't some six hour conversation about something very profound or personal, but they open up, and on some level we connect. The most difficult thing for me is still when one of my kids cries because I can't help. That language barrier is a borderland that infuriates me and fascinates me all at once. I both want to conquer it and contemplate it.
This does not start off as the most cheerful post, but it gets better, so bear with me. There's a reason why this blog's title includes the word "hermit". I have been known to say "I like being a hermit" and yes, freak that I am, it has occurred to me to take a few months to live in complete seclusion. Over the past few months, through a series of events (and a lot of phone calls), this view of myself had slowly begun to break down. However, there was enough left of the contentment with isolation that I was quite surprised at how this first birthday alone made me feel. From the minute I got on the subway in Seoul to head back to Daejeon, I knew that I was on my own for the rest of the day. There was something very daunting about that thought. I've often isolated myself, but this isolation was forced on me, not chosen. I realized that even at my most isolated moments, people around me had cared and been there for me in spite of myself and it wasn't that they didn't care, it was just that everyone was so far away.
When I got home and started seeing the birthday wishes from people all over, it meant so much and at the same time, it was so painful.
But in the following weeks, I started realizing that I may not have family here, or best friends, and every friendship doesn't just grow at miraculous speeds, but that doesn't mean there aren't new friends to be made, people around me. When it comes down to it, I may be separated from the people who know me best, but I'm not alone, and I can build new friendships.
Going out with people, hearing where they came from, what brought them here... all these different experiences make for such an eclectic, and fascinating picture. There's so much to learn, whether from the Koreans I meet, or the other foreigners. The separation can sometimes make it hard to see the richness that surrounds me in this situation.
One of my favorite things is building relationships with my students. Of course the better their English, the easier this is, since obviously Korean is not really an option. There are always those moments in my higher level classes when I can a get talking about something they're really excited about. And they just get carried away. I had the most quiet student alone in class, and I was able to ask him about things he cared about, and he talked for almost all of the 45 minutes. Granted, this isn't some six hour conversation about something very profound or personal, but they open up, and on some level we connect. The most difficult thing for me is still when one of my kids cries because I can't help. That language barrier is a borderland that infuriates me and fascinates me all at once. I both want to conquer it and contemplate it.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Mindset Of The Month
Have you ever had someone describe something to you, whether you know it or not, and suddenly, no matter how you thought about it before, that becomes one of the ways in which you look at it? It makes sense, it's a new way to look at it, you take it into consideration. Now have you ever had that happen when you want to force yourself to not think of it in that way? Where you know that could change your perceptions of it so drastically, the experience itself will change? I suppose in many ways, that has been my struggle since I got here. I can't say I've gotten the most positive feedback about Korea, about teaching at an academy, about the food... the list goes on. It honestly scared me when I got here because for the first time, I was wondering if I was legitimately going to hate where I lived and what I did.
I remember when I was living in Japan, forcing myself into a mindset that I would strive to understand the differences and accept them, that I would taste anything I was offered and appreciate it... basically attempting to rid myself of my prejudices as much as possible. I can't exactly say I was completely successful, but over the months I was there, I realized how that mindset really impacted the way I interacted with things.
Sadly, I have not managed that in Korea. From the moment I got here, it seemed I was flooded with all the things I would hate, the negativity was crushing. All the worse things to expect, in work, in attitudes, in food even made me doubt my ability to appreciate it.
But as I look back on my first month here, I notice a few things. First, it went by so fast, and it was painless (ok, relatively painless). I've been here a month? Really? I still feel so incompetent, I feel after a month I should be much more able to navigate things, whether the school, the culture or the language. But in spite of all that, I've had fun, with the successes and the struggles both. Second, like anywhere, there are cultural differences but to me it's just learning to navigate a new job, no matter where it is. There's never been anything that I find in any way offensive or stupid, it's different, it works differently, it's effective in different ways and the fact of the matter is, I just have to get used to it. And that's fine. And the last thing is that even the most unnerving things - like it taking me over an hour, instead of the needed 5-10 minutes to find the Fulbright building because the directions on the website were completely insufficient - make for amusing stories and if you power through, you learn something, if only patience. Or where to find the post office in Mapo-gu along with the National Health Insurance Building, the Labor Union Office, the closest Starbucks to Gongdeok station and the Rotary Building. And in the end, I worried a lot less about the test, because I was too busy focusing on how to get to the testing center, which has merit.
I know it will still be something I struggle with. Are these next 11 months going to be so long and tedious, by the time they're over I feel like I just went through another four years of college? Am I going to step on the plane thinking "Good riddance, I never ever want to come back to this country"? And perhaps the worse thought, am I going to start hating my job so much that I stop caring to the point of not really doing it properly? I wonder what I'll think then. A year is both so long and so short...
For now, I'm just going to enjoy the rest of the week in Seoul with family and friends and look forward to presentation classes with brilliant 9 year olds who are each researching a country, and a conversation class where I get to take the kids to my apartment to cook and speak English. Not to mention a new month where I can actually do the curriculum properly rather than rush the last week to accomplish something I didn't know existed.
I remember when I was living in Japan, forcing myself into a mindset that I would strive to understand the differences and accept them, that I would taste anything I was offered and appreciate it... basically attempting to rid myself of my prejudices as much as possible. I can't exactly say I was completely successful, but over the months I was there, I realized how that mindset really impacted the way I interacted with things.
Sadly, I have not managed that in Korea. From the moment I got here, it seemed I was flooded with all the things I would hate, the negativity was crushing. All the worse things to expect, in work, in attitudes, in food even made me doubt my ability to appreciate it.
But as I look back on my first month here, I notice a few things. First, it went by so fast, and it was painless (ok, relatively painless). I've been here a month? Really? I still feel so incompetent, I feel after a month I should be much more able to navigate things, whether the school, the culture or the language. But in spite of all that, I've had fun, with the successes and the struggles both. Second, like anywhere, there are cultural differences but to me it's just learning to navigate a new job, no matter where it is. There's never been anything that I find in any way offensive or stupid, it's different, it works differently, it's effective in different ways and the fact of the matter is, I just have to get used to it. And that's fine. And the last thing is that even the most unnerving things - like it taking me over an hour, instead of the needed 5-10 minutes to find the Fulbright building because the directions on the website were completely insufficient - make for amusing stories and if you power through, you learn something, if only patience. Or where to find the post office in Mapo-gu along with the National Health Insurance Building, the Labor Union Office, the closest Starbucks to Gongdeok station and the Rotary Building. And in the end, I worried a lot less about the test, because I was too busy focusing on how to get to the testing center, which has merit.
I know it will still be something I struggle with. Are these next 11 months going to be so long and tedious, by the time they're over I feel like I just went through another four years of college? Am I going to step on the plane thinking "Good riddance, I never ever want to come back to this country"? And perhaps the worse thought, am I going to start hating my job so much that I stop caring to the point of not really doing it properly? I wonder what I'll think then. A year is both so long and so short...
For now, I'm just going to enjoy the rest of the week in Seoul with family and friends and look forward to presentation classes with brilliant 9 year olds who are each researching a country, and a conversation class where I get to take the kids to my apartment to cook and speak English. Not to mention a new month where I can actually do the curriculum properly rather than rush the last week to accomplish something I didn't know existed.
Friday, July 16, 2010
English Oppression
The other day, I went to a coffee shop next to school for breakfast. I sadly still cannot communicate in Korean, and was thus relying on pointing and the little English the girls at the register knew. When they were trying to ask if I wanted the bagel toasted and didn't know the English words, they started apologizing profusely.
Why were they apologizing to me for not speaking my language when I am the one living in their country? It seems so backwards.
I most definitely see the value of a lingua-franca, or I would not be in Korea teaching English. Still, should people feel bad for not speaking it? Especially when they are in their home country and the majority of foreigners they get are living there, not passing through.
As a native English-speaker, it seems easy to take it for granted that you will be able to communicate somehow. I find it amazing how many people have been here for a year or more and can't even read the script. I know I simply dislike stupid things like not being able to read a menu far too much to never learn it (hopefully). But what a gift speaking English is becomes all the more striking when not speaking it becomes a reason to look down on yourself. After that day, it seems a responsibility to at least try.
They were apologizing to me, and I didn't even know how to apologize in Korean.
Why were they apologizing to me for not speaking my language when I am the one living in their country? It seems so backwards.
I most definitely see the value of a lingua-franca, or I would not be in Korea teaching English. Still, should people feel bad for not speaking it? Especially when they are in their home country and the majority of foreigners they get are living there, not passing through.
As a native English-speaker, it seems easy to take it for granted that you will be able to communicate somehow. I find it amazing how many people have been here for a year or more and can't even read the script. I know I simply dislike stupid things like not being able to read a menu far too much to never learn it (hopefully). But what a gift speaking English is becomes all the more striking when not speaking it becomes a reason to look down on yourself. After that day, it seems a responsibility to at least try.
They were apologizing to me, and I didn't even know how to apologize in Korean.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Rainy Expedition
Today I set got up driven to get to church. I'd found a church not too far away (by cab) online and figured I'd get to a landmark and walk the rest of the way. Even though it was pouring rain I figured it would, at the very least, be a fun adventure. So I dress for church (yea, dress and heals) and to the best of my ability, make a guess from the map as to which direction I'll have to walk in. Knowing the service started at 11, I gave myself plenty of time to make mistakes.
I grab a cab and successfully tell him my landmark of choice. When I get there I go with what I'd decided and start walking. It was strangely reminiscent of another expedition around a rainy city... though I was alone and it wasn't an all day scavenger hunt.
Before I left, I'd tried writing out the address but since it was all in hangul, which don't understand, it threw me off, I didn't like it, and I told myself I'd figure it out on my own. It wasn't like I could ask for directions anyway, I would probably not ask for directions even if I spoke the language! Of course I could have simply given the cab driver that address and saved myself a whole lot of walking, but I was fine with it.
So I walked, and walked and walked some more. When I got to a point (after maybe 20 minutes) on the main street where I knew I must have done something wrong, I move to the small streets, meandering through, not really expecting to find what I was looking for there, but at least take a different road. By the time I'd reached my landmark again, I was basically going to be late even if I did find it. Still, stubborn as I am, I picked another direction and started walking some more.
After about an hour and a half, when I started feeling the blisters forming and I'd been out too long for the umbrella to really be doing much good I decided that I should head back before I started getting frustrated.
Of course the cab driver didn't know the address I gave him and he was one of the few who didn't have a gps, but I actually (somehow) managed to give him directions and actually find the place!
I'm quite amazed at the fact that I didn't get frustrated. I think it's largely due to the fact that I headed out knowing that not finding it was a possibility. In retrospect, I should have drawn the map out (since I didn't have a printer I decided I'd just do without and I had the bright idea of simply discarding the notion of drawing it myself), since it would have been much easier to figure it out there. Even looking at it now, I know which direction (though not exactly which street) I should have walked in.
It wasn't really a productive trip since I didn't get where I wanted to be, but forcing myself to go out, in spite of the pouring rain, and in spite of the fact that I wasn't sure where I was going... that was productive.
Stubbornness may not always get you were you want to be, but at the very least you'll get a good workout (ok it might also leave a few marks, like blisters, but it's worth it).
~Elyssa~
I grab a cab and successfully tell him my landmark of choice. When I get there I go with what I'd decided and start walking. It was strangely reminiscent of another expedition around a rainy city... though I was alone and it wasn't an all day scavenger hunt.
Before I left, I'd tried writing out the address but since it was all in hangul, which don't understand, it threw me off, I didn't like it, and I told myself I'd figure it out on my own. It wasn't like I could ask for directions anyway, I would probably not ask for directions even if I spoke the language! Of course I could have simply given the cab driver that address and saved myself a whole lot of walking, but I was fine with it.
So I walked, and walked and walked some more. When I got to a point (after maybe 20 minutes) on the main street where I knew I must have done something wrong, I move to the small streets, meandering through, not really expecting to find what I was looking for there, but at least take a different road. By the time I'd reached my landmark again, I was basically going to be late even if I did find it. Still, stubborn as I am, I picked another direction and started walking some more.
After about an hour and a half, when I started feeling the blisters forming and I'd been out too long for the umbrella to really be doing much good I decided that I should head back before I started getting frustrated.
Of course the cab driver didn't know the address I gave him and he was one of the few who didn't have a gps, but I actually (somehow) managed to give him directions and actually find the place!
I'm quite amazed at the fact that I didn't get frustrated. I think it's largely due to the fact that I headed out knowing that not finding it was a possibility. In retrospect, I should have drawn the map out (since I didn't have a printer I decided I'd just do without and I had the bright idea of simply discarding the notion of drawing it myself), since it would have been much easier to figure it out there. Even looking at it now, I know which direction (though not exactly which street) I should have walked in.
It wasn't really a productive trip since I didn't get where I wanted to be, but forcing myself to go out, in spite of the pouring rain, and in spite of the fact that I wasn't sure where I was going... that was productive.
Stubbornness may not always get you were you want to be, but at the very least you'll get a good workout (ok it might also leave a few marks, like blisters, but it's worth it).
~Elyssa~
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Two Weeks In
“Everywhere is nowhere. When a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends by having many acquaintances, but no friends.” - Seneca
I have to admit, I've never been into blogging. I'm horrible at keeping journals! When it comes down to it, the difference this time is that I want to somehow find a way to bridge the distance and keep people involved and somehow closer. I can only hope that this will achieve its purpose.
Why Korea?
It’s been two months since graduation and now a new chapter begins in earnest. Since early May, I’ve often found myself wondering why I chose Korea over Japan. I’ve taken two years of Japanese and lived there for 6 months, achieving a certain level of fluency, whereas I do not speak a single of Korean. Though I love to learn about different cultures, Japan had always had a very special appeal to me, whereas I have never felt particularly drawn to Korean culture. Finally, the JET program came with certain prestige and name recognition that an after-school academy in Daejeon, ROK certainly does not have.
On the other hand, the decision was not random and there were important factors that led me here. First and foremost was the issue of North Korean defectors (though ironically over the past couple months, the pull to academia has only grown stronger and right now the history route seems much more likely route for the future). I wanted to get an idea of what Korean culture was like, what the shift from North to South Korea would look like.
The personal pull was, surprisingly and in many ways, even more important. I knew coming here that I had family close by, that I wasn’t shut off, separated by borders or oceans. After finally beginning to break out of a shell of seclusion, cutting myself off so completely seemed quite risky. Of course choosing instead a country where I don’t speak the language at all is a questionable alternative, but knowing there are people I am close to nearby was far more comforting. For so long I've been perfectly comfortable being secluded and far away, the fact that I wanted to be close to people so much made it a very appealing choice.
First Impressions
I got on the plane and knew I was leaving but it was only as I was walking through Incheon Airport, after a 13 hour flight, looking at the pictures of Korea all over the walls that I realized where I was. After getting in at 5 a.m, getting my bags, going through customs, I got to see T & C at the airport, for the first time in a year and a half or so. I will never forget sitting on my computer, in one of the rows of chairs outside the Coffee Bean, and them popping up behind me. It was such a pleasure, even if we were just sitting at a stupid airport.
After a couple hours, I had to get on the bus to Daejeon. Which I almost missed because it was just so... sudden. On the drive down, I couldn't help but notice how green it is here. Overcast and raining but bright and lively. It was Sunday morning, there was little traffic and it seemed that was all there was, the vibrant green flora covered in the gray mist.
When I got into Daejeon, my school director picked my up with his wife and walked me to the hotel I would be staying in before I could move into my apartment on Thursday. I have to say, not being able to understand a single word of what was being said was both fascinating and infuriating... though exhausting either way (the long trip probably didn't help). In the same vein, I am constantly amused by what people feel the need to explain, for example stopping at a gas station to get gas because the tank is almost empty. And then other times, 10 minutes of conversation that I would like to be aware of are left unexplained, like what is going on with my hotel room that I would like to get to so I can put my bags down and change. It makes me wonder how often I have done that to people with French and English and if you are someone who has suffered that, I am truly sorry.
Monday, my director picked me up at 11 to go to the school. I sat in on a few classes with other teachers while waiting for the classes I would be teaching and went to lunch (Shabu-Shabu, always wonderful) with two of the teachers. And then I got to meet my classes when they started at 3. Of course by 4-5, I was starting to fade and by the time my last classes came around I was struggling to stay awake. During that first week, I taught some of the classes and just watched others until Thursday when I the teacher I was replacing left.
In teaching, my greatest frustration has once again been the language barrier. When there is a problem, when it comes down to it, there is nothing that I can do and even if there is, someone who speaks the language will do it much better. This feeling of helplessness is quite nerve-racking and also applies when they speak to each other, I can't even understand what they're talking about, which is quite unsettling since they can say whatever they want... Of course the point is for them to just speak English but sometimes that is rather difficult to achieve.
I feel that, what bothers me more than difference between how the Koreans approach teaching and what I am accustomed to is the way the foreign teachers talk about the Korean approach. Granted, I haven't had much opportunity to witness stark differences between the two in two weeks and perhaps after several months, I will be doing the same thing. Still, I know that the approach is different, and I expect that at times I might even be shocked. I know that it is impossible for me not to prefer one way or the other but from there to calling their approach stupid or inefficient seems misplaced. It is not for me to say or judge when I am coming to their country to teach in their schools. As the outsider, it is first for me to accept and adapt, even if I disagree, what right do I have to tell them they're wrong?
It makes me wonder what I would do, if I thought of something that they could do more effectively. Would I just say, "it's not the way they do it" and so I should just adapt or is there a way to offer advice without being arrogant and degrading?
With these thoughts, I conclude my first post. Hopefully I will maintain some consistency and post often enough.
~ Elyssa ~
I have to admit, I've never been into blogging. I'm horrible at keeping journals! When it comes down to it, the difference this time is that I want to somehow find a way to bridge the distance and keep people involved and somehow closer. I can only hope that this will achieve its purpose.
Why Korea?
It’s been two months since graduation and now a new chapter begins in earnest. Since early May, I’ve often found myself wondering why I chose Korea over Japan. I’ve taken two years of Japanese and lived there for 6 months, achieving a certain level of fluency, whereas I do not speak a single of Korean. Though I love to learn about different cultures, Japan had always had a very special appeal to me, whereas I have never felt particularly drawn to Korean culture. Finally, the JET program came with certain prestige and name recognition that an after-school academy in Daejeon, ROK certainly does not have.
On the other hand, the decision was not random and there were important factors that led me here. First and foremost was the issue of North Korean defectors (though ironically over the past couple months, the pull to academia has only grown stronger and right now the history route seems much more likely route for the future). I wanted to get an idea of what Korean culture was like, what the shift from North to South Korea would look like.
The personal pull was, surprisingly and in many ways, even more important. I knew coming here that I had family close by, that I wasn’t shut off, separated by borders or oceans. After finally beginning to break out of a shell of seclusion, cutting myself off so completely seemed quite risky. Of course choosing instead a country where I don’t speak the language at all is a questionable alternative, but knowing there are people I am close to nearby was far more comforting. For so long I've been perfectly comfortable being secluded and far away, the fact that I wanted to be close to people so much made it a very appealing choice.
First Impressions
I got on the plane and knew I was leaving but it was only as I was walking through Incheon Airport, after a 13 hour flight, looking at the pictures of Korea all over the walls that I realized where I was. After getting in at 5 a.m, getting my bags, going through customs, I got to see T & C at the airport, for the first time in a year and a half or so. I will never forget sitting on my computer, in one of the rows of chairs outside the Coffee Bean, and them popping up behind me. It was such a pleasure, even if we were just sitting at a stupid airport.
After a couple hours, I had to get on the bus to Daejeon. Which I almost missed because it was just so... sudden. On the drive down, I couldn't help but notice how green it is here. Overcast and raining but bright and lively. It was Sunday morning, there was little traffic and it seemed that was all there was, the vibrant green flora covered in the gray mist.
When I got into Daejeon, my school director picked my up with his wife and walked me to the hotel I would be staying in before I could move into my apartment on Thursday. I have to say, not being able to understand a single word of what was being said was both fascinating and infuriating... though exhausting either way (the long trip probably didn't help). In the same vein, I am constantly amused by what people feel the need to explain, for example stopping at a gas station to get gas because the tank is almost empty. And then other times, 10 minutes of conversation that I would like to be aware of are left unexplained, like what is going on with my hotel room that I would like to get to so I can put my bags down and change. It makes me wonder how often I have done that to people with French and English and if you are someone who has suffered that, I am truly sorry.
Monday, my director picked me up at 11 to go to the school. I sat in on a few classes with other teachers while waiting for the classes I would be teaching and went to lunch (Shabu-Shabu, always wonderful) with two of the teachers. And then I got to meet my classes when they started at 3. Of course by 4-5, I was starting to fade and by the time my last classes came around I was struggling to stay awake. During that first week, I taught some of the classes and just watched others until Thursday when I the teacher I was replacing left.
In teaching, my greatest frustration has once again been the language barrier. When there is a problem, when it comes down to it, there is nothing that I can do and even if there is, someone who speaks the language will do it much better. This feeling of helplessness is quite nerve-racking and also applies when they speak to each other, I can't even understand what they're talking about, which is quite unsettling since they can say whatever they want... Of course the point is for them to just speak English but sometimes that is rather difficult to achieve.
I feel that, what bothers me more than difference between how the Koreans approach teaching and what I am accustomed to is the way the foreign teachers talk about the Korean approach. Granted, I haven't had much opportunity to witness stark differences between the two in two weeks and perhaps after several months, I will be doing the same thing. Still, I know that the approach is different, and I expect that at times I might even be shocked. I know that it is impossible for me not to prefer one way or the other but from there to calling their approach stupid or inefficient seems misplaced. It is not for me to say or judge when I am coming to their country to teach in their schools. As the outsider, it is first for me to accept and adapt, even if I disagree, what right do I have to tell them they're wrong?
It makes me wonder what I would do, if I thought of something that they could do more effectively. Would I just say, "it's not the way they do it" and so I should just adapt or is there a way to offer advice without being arrogant and degrading?
With these thoughts, I conclude my first post. Hopefully I will maintain some consistency and post often enough.
~ Elyssa ~
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)