I had my open class two weeks back. I was so utterly nervous when other teachers, parents, administrators, and principals filtered into my room. I thought I was going to lose the lunch I had eaten just before teaching - nackjee topbap - rice atop octopus, doused in spicy red pepper paste. Before teaching, I had to print out dozens of copies of my lesson plan, giving one copy to each guest. I wrote the lesson at the last possible moment, and I felt shaky and a bit tipsy with insecurity about what I had planned to teach. I knew that if my students were going to misbehave in front of these parents in the same manner that they had been misbehaving in my classroom the previous weeks, the open class day was bound to be a fantastic, disastrous failure.
My lesson covered different occupations. My fellow afternoon teacher, Nicole, was kind enough to lend me little flashcards that displayed pictures of different occupations on them, accompanied by the word for that occupation. For example, one had an illustration of a policeman catching a crook on it; beneath the picture there was written 'police officer.' I also had a flashcard for artist, cook, farmer, fisherman, teacher, doctor, nurse, teacher, hairdresser, firefighter, soldier, and singer. A few days before my lesson, I bought magnets and Nicole lent me a small magnetic white board.
During my lesson, I magnetized one flashcard to the board, held it up and showed the students, and asked had them repeat the occupation. We would chant, "firefighter" etc. together. Then, I taught them the phrase "when I grow up, I want to be a..." To illustrate this, I would crouch down slightly, then lift my arms and rise up as I said, "when I grow up, I want to be a..." I explained to my students that they are young, but one day they will be older and when that happens they will have a job. I'd have one occupation magnetized to my board at a time. I'd show the students the occupation, we'd chant the word together, and afterwards we would say, "When I grow up, I want to be a _______." After we practiced this phrase, I taped the flashcard to the big white board behind me, and occasionally we would review and repeat each occupation. It seemed to go over quite well.
Upon working through all the occupations, I handed out a worksheet that had 8 or so pictures on it, each picture representing a different job. For example, one picture was of a big red cross with a stethoscope inside, thereby representing 'doctor.' Next to that picture, the students had to write out "When I grow up, I want to be a doctor." After all the students had finished writing down every sentence, we chanted them together. Repetition is key, I've found. By this time, there was only a few minutes left in the period, so I gave them a word search that I made using a template I found online. The words they had to find were all different job positions. The students were to complete the word search for homework.
While teaching, my nervousness eventually faded. I got into a teaching groove of sorts, and the tension I felt inside slowly dissipated. I didn't focus on the glaring teachers in the background; I could only hone my attention on the students and what I was teaching. In my head, the atmosphere of the classroom was charged with tension and, despite being fraught with fear, I think everything went rather smoothly. My students were mini cherubims that day, perfectly participating, whilst sitting serenely still with hands clasped and eyes aglow. I had absolutely NO behavioral problems whatsoever. I guess my students were just as afraid as I was to have so many parents and adults in the classroom.
This became an annoying trend before my open class. My students started showcasing poor, disrespectful attitudes when I was teaching, but as soon as a Korean teacher walked by the classroom or popped her head inside the door, the students instantly acted impeccably. Why did they show such respect for Korean teachers but not for me? They knew exactly how they were supposed to act and they could, it seemed, easily act in such a decent and polite way, but they failed to do so while I was teaching. I eventually became very flustered shortly before my open class. I had been screaming and yelling for a few weeks. At first it worked well to yell. The kids would behave, but eventually my hollering proved ineffective. It didn't matter how often or how loud I screamed out, "Be quiet! sit down! Behave!" The students started to ignore my commands. I knew I had to come up with some way of threatening or blackmailing them into acting properly. At first, I was stumped. The initial thought I had was to call the folks of the bad students, but with my limited handle on Hangul, this seemed futile. What was I to do...call home and tell the parent (in English) how poor their student was? The folks wouldn't understand me.
The day after my open class, the poor student behavior continued. It seemed to me as if the students were unphased by the previous day's sound behavior. They went on being as wild and talkative as before. I had had enough. I finally thought of a good way to curb their attitudes. I proceeded to write down the name of each student on the board. I explained to them that if one student is bad, I'll scold he or she and erase a third of his / her name. If I have to say something to that student again, I'll erase another third of his or her name. If I have to do so once again, I will erase the entirety of the name and have the principal call home. That got their attention. Backs straightened. Pencils were torn out of pencil cases, poised rigidly upright - tense and eager to write. Ears practically jutted out, ready to pounce upon any word that seeped from my mouth.
For the past two weeks, I've had very, very few behavior issues. I can't help but grin.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
Pulgogi
I stopped by Jino’s hagwon the other night, but he wasn’t in. Surprisingly, the door to the institution was unlocked and I found two of his students hanging out inside. They kindly asked me what I needed and if I wanted to use their cell phone to call up Jino. Their English was impressive (the hagwon’s work!) and one rang up Jino for me. He explained that he had just finished teaching, that his wife and baby were in town, and that he wouldn’t be able to hang out until tomorrow. We agreed to meet up the next afternoon.
So I sipped on some of his complimentary coffee and decided to chat it up with the two high school aged students. One was busy using Jino’s computer for Star Craft; the other was studying biology. It was obvious that he didn’t really care to study because he started chatting with me in English, ignoring the open science book. We spoke on a number of topics, occasionally using an electronic Korean and English dictionary to further understand one another. We spoke of how difficult it is to learn English among other languages. He said that Hangul is very simple compared to English.
“What about Chinese?” I asked. “The characters seem impossible to learn.”
He laughed. “Chinese isn’t a language, it’s a password.”
I told him that I wanted to learn more Hangul because not being able to read all the signs around me and not being able to communicate with newfound acquaintances is frustrating. Promptly, he took out some sheets of paper and began to teach me the basic alphabet, consonants and vowels. He folded another sheet in half, and asked me to write down English words on the left hand column so that he could jot down the Hangul translation in the right hand column.
Hmmm...What to write? I thought about what my elementary students know how to say in English. They have more of a foundation of English than I have of Korean. So, I thought about some of the basic necessities. Here’s a list of the words he taught me to say and write:
What time is it?
I’m hungry
What’s your favorite color?
Red
Blue
White
Green
Black
I feel...
Happy
Sad
Lonely
Sleepy / Tired
Thirsty
I’m sorry
Forgive me
I love you
Beer
Chicken
Rice
Apple
Cow
Pork
Pear
Dog
Cat
Fish (pet)
Fish (food)
Good
Turtle
Sun
The weather is good
The weather is bad
It’s hot
It’s rainy
It’s foggy
Car
Bus
Train (station)
east, west, north, south
the twelve months
winter, autumn, summer, spring
school (elementary, middle, high, university)
principal
respect
foolish
smart
I was very thankful for the lesson, warmly thanking my newly acquired friend and songsaengnim. I look forward to chatting with him again. I strolled on home, but I felt restless when I reached my destination. I decided to keep on walking. 20 minutes walking distance from my house is a small business area; I opted to head there. Many clubs, bars, shops and restaurants line those streets. It’s a very scenic place, particularly at night because the buildings are plastered with neon signs, flickering flashing bulbs, and spinning advertisements with swirling colors. The buildings have at least six or seven stories each, with different clubs or pool halls on each floor. There’s usually a buzz on those few blocks, an atmosphere to soak up and sights to see. I like to overwhelm my senses as I stroll these streets. The lights are so vibrant and covered with a myriad of colorful explosions, that gazing down the street makes me fear for epileptics.
I was feeling pretty parched by the time I made it to this area, so I went inside a quickie mart and purchased some grapefruit orange gatorade (it’s dominant). Outside of virtually all Korean convenience stores are plastic tables and chairs. One often sees men enjoying some beer or students eating frozen treats on these seats. I decided to take a little break from walking, so I sat down outside the quickie mart and started sipping away on my drink. A moment later, a Korean man walked by and started speaking to me with very broken English. He was quite friendly, so I motioned for him to pull up a chair to chat with me. I’d say he was around 35 years old or so. I asked him what his occupation was.
With much stammering and pausing, he told me, “I.......am....a..........” His eyes darted about behind his glasses and he almost looked in pain due to thinking so hard. Finally, he said “I am a history.”
“Oh, you’re a historian.” I said. “You study history.”
“Yes. American history. England history. Korean history. All world history.”
I told him a bit about what I’m doing in Korea, but I don’t think I was able to communicate very much to him. For one, his knowledge of English was very poor. My Korean is practically non-existent. I had to speak painfully slowly for him to gather anything - all while using lots of hand gestures. Soon after finding that his English was very minimal, I discovered that he was completely and utterly inebriated. As he sat down, he put a bottle of Soju on the table and offered me a drink. I declined, and he started to drink some more (not that he needed it). Let me be clear about this. Korean drunks don’t seem to be like some American drunks, surly and aggressive. This man was pretty chilled out. He was very kind and brave, for he had no inhibitions about speaking with me in a language he didn’t really understand. I didn’t realize just HOW drunk he was until speaking with him for about 10 minutes or so. At this point, for some reason unknown to me, he decided to hoist himself up in his seat. Remember that these chairs are a thin, flimsy plastic - like cheap lawn chairs. So as he hoisted himself up and out of his chair, his elbows locked and his bottom elevated above the seat, he began to tip back slowly. I exclaimed, “be careful!” But he didn’t understand and it was too late. He toppled backwards, hitting his head on the chairs stacked behind him. I rushed to aid him, grasping his arm and lifting him up on his feet. “Are you ok, man?”
“Yes, I ok.”
The man proceeded to stagger about, his mind certainly fogged over. His world must have been a blur, for he could scarcely manage to walk. I asked him if he’d like to sit back down and rest, but he seemed to want to stand a while. I started thinking about bailing on the dude. It was just at that moment that he asked me to come with him.
“Where?”
“Eat. Eat.”
Indeed I was feeling pretty hungry at the time. He seemed harmless enough, despite his intoxication, so I decided to follow him to get some grub. We walked a block or so and entered a restaurant. It was the type that served grilled meat in front of you on top of a bucket of hot coals that rest inside a chasm within the center of the table. There’s a tube suspended above each table, each grill. When the food is brought out and strips of meat are placed on the grill, the waitress lowers the tube which sucks up air. So the heat from the hot coals is vacuumed up through the food. Pretty cool stuff. He asked me what I like to eat. I told him chicken. He repeated the word, 'chicken,' but I don’t think he understood. So I figured I’d tell him one of the few food words in my vocabulary.
“Pulgogee.”
“Ah, pulgogee.” So he ordered up the pulgogee (strips of marinated beef - so so good) and more Soju. He looked over at me, just as sloshed as ever, put his hand up and said “wait.”
“OK, no problem.”
He walked outside the restaurant and headed over to a restroom. This is common in Korea. Usually a restaurant will not have a bathroom inside it, but just outside in a public area. I could see where he was staggering because right behind me the wall was made up mostly of windows. I waited a while and began munching on the kimchi that the waitress had brought out. The pulgogee was already simmering. “Where is this guy?” I thought after a few minutes. I looked out the window at the bathroom. Just at that moment, I saw him slowly emerge from the bathroom, still soused and stumbling. He walked half way to the restaurant door, and then, curiously, stopped. He looked to his left. His head bobbed a bit. He looked to his right. At that moment his memory must have completely blacked out. In his intoxicated haze, he forgot what he was supposed to be doing. Surely, he knew he was supposed to be doing something. I saw this scene unfold before me, and I thought, “this dude has no grip on reality right now. I wonder if he’ll come to his senses?”
And he didn’t.
The drunken dude turned around and walked on, to his home probably. I couldn’t help but chuckle. This is going to make quite a funny story.
The waitress came out, turned my pulgogee and cut it into small strips. She motioned towards the spot where the man once sat and asked me something in Korean.
“I don’t know,” I said and turned my shoulders upward, giving the universal ‘I don’t know’ gesture, followed by the booze signal - my hand became a bottle. “Glug glug.”
She seemed to understand, smiling and leaving me to my solo meal. The food was excellent and I was quite happy to enjoy it without the drunk. I was relieved by the fact that I had some spare won on me to pay for the meal. Naturally, I didn’t crack open the Soju, so I didn’t have to pay for it.
I usually don’t eat out at Korean restaurants alone because I have difficulty ordering the food, so having a drunken guide order and bail was a pleasant surprise!
So I sipped on some of his complimentary coffee and decided to chat it up with the two high school aged students. One was busy using Jino’s computer for Star Craft; the other was studying biology. It was obvious that he didn’t really care to study because he started chatting with me in English, ignoring the open science book. We spoke on a number of topics, occasionally using an electronic Korean and English dictionary to further understand one another. We spoke of how difficult it is to learn English among other languages. He said that Hangul is very simple compared to English.
“What about Chinese?” I asked. “The characters seem impossible to learn.”
He laughed. “Chinese isn’t a language, it’s a password.”
I told him that I wanted to learn more Hangul because not being able to read all the signs around me and not being able to communicate with newfound acquaintances is frustrating. Promptly, he took out some sheets of paper and began to teach me the basic alphabet, consonants and vowels. He folded another sheet in half, and asked me to write down English words on the left hand column so that he could jot down the Hangul translation in the right hand column.
Hmmm...What to write? I thought about what my elementary students know how to say in English. They have more of a foundation of English than I have of Korean. So, I thought about some of the basic necessities. Here’s a list of the words he taught me to say and write:
What time is it?
I’m hungry
What’s your favorite color?
Red
Blue
White
Green
Black
I feel...
Happy
Sad
Lonely
Sleepy / Tired
Thirsty
I’m sorry
Forgive me
I love you
Beer
Chicken
Rice
Apple
Cow
Pork
Pear
Dog
Cat
Fish (pet)
Fish (food)
Good
Turtle
Sun
The weather is good
The weather is bad
It’s hot
It’s rainy
It’s foggy
Car
Bus
Train (station)
east, west, north, south
the twelve months
winter, autumn, summer, spring
school (elementary, middle, high, university)
principal
respect
foolish
smart
I was very thankful for the lesson, warmly thanking my newly acquired friend and songsaengnim. I look forward to chatting with him again. I strolled on home, but I felt restless when I reached my destination. I decided to keep on walking. 20 minutes walking distance from my house is a small business area; I opted to head there. Many clubs, bars, shops and restaurants line those streets. It’s a very scenic place, particularly at night because the buildings are plastered with neon signs, flickering flashing bulbs, and spinning advertisements with swirling colors. The buildings have at least six or seven stories each, with different clubs or pool halls on each floor. There’s usually a buzz on those few blocks, an atmosphere to soak up and sights to see. I like to overwhelm my senses as I stroll these streets. The lights are so vibrant and covered with a myriad of colorful explosions, that gazing down the street makes me fear for epileptics.
I was feeling pretty parched by the time I made it to this area, so I went inside a quickie mart and purchased some grapefruit orange gatorade (it’s dominant). Outside of virtually all Korean convenience stores are plastic tables and chairs. One often sees men enjoying some beer or students eating frozen treats on these seats. I decided to take a little break from walking, so I sat down outside the quickie mart and started sipping away on my drink. A moment later, a Korean man walked by and started speaking to me with very broken English. He was quite friendly, so I motioned for him to pull up a chair to chat with me. I’d say he was around 35 years old or so. I asked him what his occupation was.
With much stammering and pausing, he told me, “I.......am....a..........” His eyes darted about behind his glasses and he almost looked in pain due to thinking so hard. Finally, he said “I am a history.”
“Oh, you’re a historian.” I said. “You study history.”
“Yes. American history. England history. Korean history. All world history.”
I told him a bit about what I’m doing in Korea, but I don’t think I was able to communicate very much to him. For one, his knowledge of English was very poor. My Korean is practically non-existent. I had to speak painfully slowly for him to gather anything - all while using lots of hand gestures. Soon after finding that his English was very minimal, I discovered that he was completely and utterly inebriated. As he sat down, he put a bottle of Soju on the table and offered me a drink. I declined, and he started to drink some more (not that he needed it). Let me be clear about this. Korean drunks don’t seem to be like some American drunks, surly and aggressive. This man was pretty chilled out. He was very kind and brave, for he had no inhibitions about speaking with me in a language he didn’t really understand. I didn’t realize just HOW drunk he was until speaking with him for about 10 minutes or so. At this point, for some reason unknown to me, he decided to hoist himself up in his seat. Remember that these chairs are a thin, flimsy plastic - like cheap lawn chairs. So as he hoisted himself up and out of his chair, his elbows locked and his bottom elevated above the seat, he began to tip back slowly. I exclaimed, “be careful!” But he didn’t understand and it was too late. He toppled backwards, hitting his head on the chairs stacked behind him. I rushed to aid him, grasping his arm and lifting him up on his feet. “Are you ok, man?”
“Yes, I ok.”
The man proceeded to stagger about, his mind certainly fogged over. His world must have been a blur, for he could scarcely manage to walk. I asked him if he’d like to sit back down and rest, but he seemed to want to stand a while. I started thinking about bailing on the dude. It was just at that moment that he asked me to come with him.
“Where?”
“Eat. Eat.”
Indeed I was feeling pretty hungry at the time. He seemed harmless enough, despite his intoxication, so I decided to follow him to get some grub. We walked a block or so and entered a restaurant. It was the type that served grilled meat in front of you on top of a bucket of hot coals that rest inside a chasm within the center of the table. There’s a tube suspended above each table, each grill. When the food is brought out and strips of meat are placed on the grill, the waitress lowers the tube which sucks up air. So the heat from the hot coals is vacuumed up through the food. Pretty cool stuff. He asked me what I like to eat. I told him chicken. He repeated the word, 'chicken,' but I don’t think he understood. So I figured I’d tell him one of the few food words in my vocabulary.
“Pulgogee.”
“Ah, pulgogee.” So he ordered up the pulgogee (strips of marinated beef - so so good) and more Soju. He looked over at me, just as sloshed as ever, put his hand up and said “wait.”
“OK, no problem.”
He walked outside the restaurant and headed over to a restroom. This is common in Korea. Usually a restaurant will not have a bathroom inside it, but just outside in a public area. I could see where he was staggering because right behind me the wall was made up mostly of windows. I waited a while and began munching on the kimchi that the waitress had brought out. The pulgogee was already simmering. “Where is this guy?” I thought after a few minutes. I looked out the window at the bathroom. Just at that moment, I saw him slowly emerge from the bathroom, still soused and stumbling. He walked half way to the restaurant door, and then, curiously, stopped. He looked to his left. His head bobbed a bit. He looked to his right. At that moment his memory must have completely blacked out. In his intoxicated haze, he forgot what he was supposed to be doing. Surely, he knew he was supposed to be doing something. I saw this scene unfold before me, and I thought, “this dude has no grip on reality right now. I wonder if he’ll come to his senses?”
And he didn’t.
The drunken dude turned around and walked on, to his home probably. I couldn’t help but chuckle. This is going to make quite a funny story.
The waitress came out, turned my pulgogee and cut it into small strips. She motioned towards the spot where the man once sat and asked me something in Korean.
“I don’t know,” I said and turned my shoulders upward, giving the universal ‘I don’t know’ gesture, followed by the booze signal - my hand became a bottle. “Glug glug.”
She seemed to understand, smiling and leaving me to my solo meal. The food was excellent and I was quite happy to enjoy it without the drunk. I was relieved by the fact that I had some spare won on me to pay for the meal. Naturally, I didn’t crack open the Soju, so I didn’t have to pay for it.
I usually don’t eat out at Korean restaurants alone because I have difficulty ordering the food, so having a drunken guide order and bail was a pleasant surprise!
Sunday, June 8, 2008
First Day of School
Considering that I've been teaching for roughly a month now and I've scarcely given word to the topic, this post is long overdue. My apologies go out to my curious family and friends; blogging is a bit difficult to do without internet at home (which I'm still lacking), and I'm sorry for my limited communication.
My first day went down in the following fashion:
I was picked up on a Tuesday morning by Tim, my Korean co-teacher of sorts. We drove to the school. It was a very short drive, so we didn't chat much. My school is located about 3 blocks away from my apartment, making my commute to work very convenient. Tim parked the van out behind the school. As we walked toward the entrance, he explained to me that we were about to meet the principal. He also went on to say that I can probably eat in the cafeteria everyday for free. I found out later that there is a bit of animosity between the afternoon teachers and the regular teaching staff. However, since I'm a foreigner I've been given some special privileges (more on this later).
As we rounded the corner and entered the courtyard to the school, we were greeted by hundreds of screaming students, swirling and swarming about in a flurry. It was all so overwhelming. Some were jumping rope, some were playing soccer, while others simply ran about like crazed little kids, smiles plastered across their faces. I soon wore a similar smile. Tim and I were quickly overtaken by students crowding all around us. One jumped up and clung to Tim. As the mob of children overtook and encircled us, I heard countless cry, "Hello! Hello! How are you?! What's your name?! Where are you from?!" The questions were projected at me from so many different directions and raining down on me all at once, I didn't know whom to answer. Eventually, I managed to convey, "Hello! I'm good, thank you. How are you? My name is Patrick. I'm from America."
Tim quickly ushered me inside, away from the kids who all seemed to cry out, "goodbye! Nice to meet you!!" as I walked away. We were about to enter the school when Tim told me to remove my shoes. I did so, picked them up and followed him into the foyer area where there was a big wooden bin with many cabinet doors on its side. Each cabinet of the bin contained a space where teachers can leave their shoes for the day. So I placed my shoes inside one of the bins toward the bottom (the top row is reserved for the vice and head principals) and picked up a pair of black sandals. What a relief! I thought there was going to be a strict dress code. Many know how much I loathe wearing dress clothes, particularly dress shoes. I was delighted to find that not only will I NOT have to wear uncomfortable, unbreathable, and inflexible formal shoes, that I would be required to wear snug, comfy, open toed sandals to work - every day! Bonus.
I followed Tim to the cafeteria, which was relatively empty at the time but soon filled up with oodles of noodle slurping kids. Just outside the doors to the cafeteria, I met my principal - a kind man with a hardened face. Students rushing by paused to bow to him before they entered the cafeteria. His English was pretty minimal, so Tim translated for me while standing in line for food. There was a table with many trays of food designated for teachers; we served ourselves. Other students had to wait in long lines to receive their grub from pink plastic and white rubber clad cafeteria workers. The food was excellent (and has been every day). Perfectly cooked, sticky rice, seaweed soup, zesty kimchi, fish, and some melon slices for dessert. As I sat down, one of the pink plastered cafeteria workers laid a fork down beside me. I thanked her and was about to use it to dig into my rice, but I thought I had better start getting used to chopsticks. I must admit that I fumbled around a bit with my food; I'm not very accustomed to using chopsticks, but I eventually found my rhythm and managed to eat without embarrassment.
I met a few other teachers, notably Unn-Kyoung, who has become a good friend over these past few weeks (She's a dominate ping-pong player I've come to find, and her English is excellent). Everyone welcomed me warmly, and I felt at ease among my new friends and co-workers. The principal, although his appearance was intimidating, was very friendly and, through Tim, informative. I learned that this part of town, Buldangdo, is the wealthiest area in Cheonan. After our meal, Tim and I were invited to the principal's office for some coffee. I was told that I could come to his office anytime I so pleased to enjoy some java.
Soon it became time to teach. Tim escorted me to my room, handed me a stack of books and accompanying CDs, and promptly left me. "Oh, I teach alone?" I remember asking. "Yes. You teach here on the fourth floor, and I teach downstairs on the third floor."
"Oh, ok." Before coming to Korea, I was told that I would have a co-teacher, someone who spoke Korean and would assist me as I taught. If the students had a question they could not explain in English, the Korean teacher would intervene. Likewise, if the students did not understand what I was teaching, the Korean teacher could further explain in the students' native tongue. Feeling a little nervous, I soon began my first class.
I began with a quick introduction of myself, where I was from, what I like to do etc. I was greeted by a dozen second graders with blank faces. "Just how much English do they understand?" I began to wonder. I soon found out that they knew very little when I popped in the CD and had the students open their books. They repeated words like 'chicken,' 'pizza,' 'bread,' and 'milk.' I felt that the students could understand the words and their accompanying pictures, and they pronounced them decently, but they had no grasp of conversational English. I remember one of the phrases in the book was 'point to the clock.'
"Point to the clock," they droned.
"No, no." I said. I lifted my hands in the air before them and wiggled my fingers. "I don't want you to just say 'point to the clock,' I actually want you to take your fingers and point to the clock." I pointed to the clock. They didn't quite get it.
"Come on, try it. Like this. 'Point to the clock.'"
I pointed to the clock. Slowly, they began to catch on.
"OK, now point to the window."
They mimicked me as I pointed to the window while saying, "point to the window."
Finally, we were communicating.
One class soon ended and another began. I quickly found out that some classes were just starting to learn English whereas others are a bit more advanced, using different books. My last class consisted of fourth graders, and they had a much better grasp on English than my other students. This class used an entirely different book which was composed of short stories or informative paragraphs for the students to read and questions afterwards for them to answer. The other classes used books and CDs for learning vocabulary, not necessarily forming sentences.
My first day of teaching came to an end so quickly; it blurred on past me like a bullet train. I had and have six classes, forty minutes each, from 1:10-5:20. I found my students to be very well-behaved and respectful - more than I expected from 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders. Some students even bowed to me as they entered the classroom.
Since then, I've had a number of behavioral problems. Sometimes my problematic students pretend they don't understand me, even though I know they do. I've had to get mean on more than one occasion. Many back home know me to be pretty passive, and I have to say that it's uncomfortable for me to raise my voice and yell - especially when my anger is directed toward little kids - but it's absolutely necessary at times. I mostly have problems with students who don't care to learn English. Their parents are paying to have them in an afternoon class, so it's the folks who want their children to learn English, not necessarily the kids. These students don't listen, don't participate, don't write, don't speak - no matter how hard I try to get them to cooperate, they just want to sit back and chat (in Korean, of course) with their fellow classmates. They will try to stall for as long as possible.
I'll say, "Take out your notebooks, please."
Some will reply, "Teacher, no notebook."
"Oh, you don't have your notebook?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you. Show me."
The student will then open his or her backpack, revealing their notebook.
"Don't lie to me. You have your notebook right there. Take it out, and let's begin."
"Teacher, no pencil."
This is pretty much an everyday occurrence.
I was particularly peeved at one student who didn't bother to write anything in English on one assignment. He just scribbled nonsense across the handout. I told him to erase it and try again. I even wrote down some of the sentences in English on the board - all he had to do was copy it down. But he didn't. I really wanted to see him try, so I got an eraser out, took his paper, and erased the scribbling. I said, "Come on, it's not so bad. Just try it out." And he just kept on scribbling nothingness.
Here's a quick list of interesting things I soon found out about teaching in Korea.
1. There are no janitors. Students are required to clean everyday, in shifts. I often see students bustling about with brooms, sweeping up the hallways and stairs.
2. Teachers are required to clean their own rooms. I sweep my room everyday, clean the desks and board twice a week, and empty my own garbage weekly. My company recently bought me a vacuum; I'm stoked.
3. Afternoon teaching is quite different. My class isn't very nice compared to regular classrooms. I have no air conditioning, television, or computer. As things are heating up here, I've had to open up my door and fan it back and forth, stirring up a slight breeze for the students. My principal was kind enough to demand an air conditioning unit and computer from my company, but I haven't heard back yet. I usually enjoy some coffee with the fellow six grade teachers on my floor in the break room after lunch and before teaching (regular teachers, that is. There is only one other afternoon teacher, Nicole, a very kind Korean. She's also from my company. She teaches phonics and reading, whereas I teach vocabulary and pronunciation.) My coffee sipping mates are all very friendly, flirtatious, and generous. They asked me if my room had air conditioning, and when I told them that it didn't, they gave me one of their spare fans (along with a dozen milk cartons, orange juice, rice cake candies, and other warm sentiments). My room is much cooler now. Update - My company has agreed to get me and Nicole air conditioners for our rooms asap.
4. Students are super dedicated to studying, even at a very early age. Many of my students go to regular school, afternoon school (with me), multiple hagwons for furthering their knowledge in English and other fields, and instrument lessons. Imagine that - second and third graders are studying literally all day. No wonder they're so playful in my classroom - they don't get to play much outside of school.
5. Teachers are never called by their last names. Students refer to their teachers as "songsaengnim," or, in my case, "Teacher." I wondered if this is true for all occupations in Korea, but upon asking another teacher about this, I found out that only teachers are called 'teacher.' In the States, the only people we call by their job titles is 'waiter.' In Korea, if you want to get the attention of you waiter, you say "ogeeyo," which literally means 'here,' only with the 'yo' for politeness.
I have a current school related problem. Many of my classes are, and have been, finished with their text and work books. I haven't been given any new material for them. My company has stated that I will not be getting any new books for several more weeks. The reason is because the parents of the students pay for the books, and their money has to last for three whole months before they are required to pay for new books. So, I'm tap dancing my way through class. It's difficult for me to come up with games to play because I have to make very simple rules so that the kids will understand. To help things, I've purchased an English - Korean dictionary to explain more challenging concepts. I must admit that my survival style of teaching is pretty boring. I hope to become a better teacher quickly. I've mostly been having the students write down sentences in their notebooks. Afterwards we practice saying them aloud. I often try to act out the words, so they can have a better visual to help them remember new vocabulary words. Sometimes we play hangman; sometimes we play the connection game - where I write 'tiger,' which ends in 'r' and the students have to come up with a word that begins with 'r.'
Anyhow, any teaching suggestions or recommendations are welcome. Prayer is welcome too. It's challenging to me because the language barrier is vast, and my experiences with the very little ones is quite limited. Giving me further stress is that the 17th of this month is going to be an 'open class' day, where the parents are welcomed to come and visit their students classes - with me teaching. I'm pretty nervous, and I don't know exactly what I'm going to be teaching. Some new text books and work materials would be very nice, but I doubt they are going to come in before open class day.
To end on a more positive note, I'm very glad to be here teaching. I know that as a foreign teacher with a very very limited handle on Hangul, I offer my students something unique. They are forced to communicate with me in English. My students all love to communicate, so they come up to me and say, "Teacher! ummm... chicken spelling."
"Oh, how do you spell chicken?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"C- h- i - c- k-e-n."
"Oh thank you, teacher."
My first day went down in the following fashion:
I was picked up on a Tuesday morning by Tim, my Korean co-teacher of sorts. We drove to the school. It was a very short drive, so we didn't chat much. My school is located about 3 blocks away from my apartment, making my commute to work very convenient. Tim parked the van out behind the school. As we walked toward the entrance, he explained to me that we were about to meet the principal. He also went on to say that I can probably eat in the cafeteria everyday for free. I found out later that there is a bit of animosity between the afternoon teachers and the regular teaching staff. However, since I'm a foreigner I've been given some special privileges (more on this later).
As we rounded the corner and entered the courtyard to the school, we were greeted by hundreds of screaming students, swirling and swarming about in a flurry. It was all so overwhelming. Some were jumping rope, some were playing soccer, while others simply ran about like crazed little kids, smiles plastered across their faces. I soon wore a similar smile. Tim and I were quickly overtaken by students crowding all around us. One jumped up and clung to Tim. As the mob of children overtook and encircled us, I heard countless cry, "Hello! Hello! How are you?! What's your name?! Where are you from?!" The questions were projected at me from so many different directions and raining down on me all at once, I didn't know whom to answer. Eventually, I managed to convey, "Hello! I'm good, thank you. How are you? My name is Patrick. I'm from America."
Tim quickly ushered me inside, away from the kids who all seemed to cry out, "goodbye! Nice to meet you!!" as I walked away. We were about to enter the school when Tim told me to remove my shoes. I did so, picked them up and followed him into the foyer area where there was a big wooden bin with many cabinet doors on its side. Each cabinet of the bin contained a space where teachers can leave their shoes for the day. So I placed my shoes inside one of the bins toward the bottom (the top row is reserved for the vice and head principals) and picked up a pair of black sandals. What a relief! I thought there was going to be a strict dress code. Many know how much I loathe wearing dress clothes, particularly dress shoes. I was delighted to find that not only will I NOT have to wear uncomfortable, unbreathable, and inflexible formal shoes, that I would be required to wear snug, comfy, open toed sandals to work - every day! Bonus.
I followed Tim to the cafeteria, which was relatively empty at the time but soon filled up with oodles of noodle slurping kids. Just outside the doors to the cafeteria, I met my principal - a kind man with a hardened face. Students rushing by paused to bow to him before they entered the cafeteria. His English was pretty minimal, so Tim translated for me while standing in line for food. There was a table with many trays of food designated for teachers; we served ourselves. Other students had to wait in long lines to receive their grub from pink plastic and white rubber clad cafeteria workers. The food was excellent (and has been every day). Perfectly cooked, sticky rice, seaweed soup, zesty kimchi, fish, and some melon slices for dessert. As I sat down, one of the pink plastered cafeteria workers laid a fork down beside me. I thanked her and was about to use it to dig into my rice, but I thought I had better start getting used to chopsticks. I must admit that I fumbled around a bit with my food; I'm not very accustomed to using chopsticks, but I eventually found my rhythm and managed to eat without embarrassment.
I met a few other teachers, notably Unn-Kyoung, who has become a good friend over these past few weeks (She's a dominate ping-pong player I've come to find, and her English is excellent). Everyone welcomed me warmly, and I felt at ease among my new friends and co-workers. The principal, although his appearance was intimidating, was very friendly and, through Tim, informative. I learned that this part of town, Buldangdo, is the wealthiest area in Cheonan. After our meal, Tim and I were invited to the principal's office for some coffee. I was told that I could come to his office anytime I so pleased to enjoy some java.
Soon it became time to teach. Tim escorted me to my room, handed me a stack of books and accompanying CDs, and promptly left me. "Oh, I teach alone?" I remember asking. "Yes. You teach here on the fourth floor, and I teach downstairs on the third floor."
"Oh, ok." Before coming to Korea, I was told that I would have a co-teacher, someone who spoke Korean and would assist me as I taught. If the students had a question they could not explain in English, the Korean teacher would intervene. Likewise, if the students did not understand what I was teaching, the Korean teacher could further explain in the students' native tongue. Feeling a little nervous, I soon began my first class.
I began with a quick introduction of myself, where I was from, what I like to do etc. I was greeted by a dozen second graders with blank faces. "Just how much English do they understand?" I began to wonder. I soon found out that they knew very little when I popped in the CD and had the students open their books. They repeated words like 'chicken,' 'pizza,' 'bread,' and 'milk.' I felt that the students could understand the words and their accompanying pictures, and they pronounced them decently, but they had no grasp of conversational English. I remember one of the phrases in the book was 'point to the clock.'
"Point to the clock," they droned.
"No, no." I said. I lifted my hands in the air before them and wiggled my fingers. "I don't want you to just say 'point to the clock,' I actually want you to take your fingers and point to the clock." I pointed to the clock. They didn't quite get it.
"Come on, try it. Like this. 'Point to the clock.'"
I pointed to the clock. Slowly, they began to catch on.
"OK, now point to the window."
They mimicked me as I pointed to the window while saying, "point to the window."
Finally, we were communicating.
One class soon ended and another began. I quickly found out that some classes were just starting to learn English whereas others are a bit more advanced, using different books. My last class consisted of fourth graders, and they had a much better grasp on English than my other students. This class used an entirely different book which was composed of short stories or informative paragraphs for the students to read and questions afterwards for them to answer. The other classes used books and CDs for learning vocabulary, not necessarily forming sentences.
My first day of teaching came to an end so quickly; it blurred on past me like a bullet train. I had and have six classes, forty minutes each, from 1:10-5:20. I found my students to be very well-behaved and respectful - more than I expected from 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders. Some students even bowed to me as they entered the classroom.
Since then, I've had a number of behavioral problems. Sometimes my problematic students pretend they don't understand me, even though I know they do. I've had to get mean on more than one occasion. Many back home know me to be pretty passive, and I have to say that it's uncomfortable for me to raise my voice and yell - especially when my anger is directed toward little kids - but it's absolutely necessary at times. I mostly have problems with students who don't care to learn English. Their parents are paying to have them in an afternoon class, so it's the folks who want their children to learn English, not necessarily the kids. These students don't listen, don't participate, don't write, don't speak - no matter how hard I try to get them to cooperate, they just want to sit back and chat (in Korean, of course) with their fellow classmates. They will try to stall for as long as possible.
I'll say, "Take out your notebooks, please."
Some will reply, "Teacher, no notebook."
"Oh, you don't have your notebook?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you. Show me."
The student will then open his or her backpack, revealing their notebook.
"Don't lie to me. You have your notebook right there. Take it out, and let's begin."
"Teacher, no pencil."
This is pretty much an everyday occurrence.
I was particularly peeved at one student who didn't bother to write anything in English on one assignment. He just scribbled nonsense across the handout. I told him to erase it and try again. I even wrote down some of the sentences in English on the board - all he had to do was copy it down. But he didn't. I really wanted to see him try, so I got an eraser out, took his paper, and erased the scribbling. I said, "Come on, it's not so bad. Just try it out." And he just kept on scribbling nothingness.
Here's a quick list of interesting things I soon found out about teaching in Korea.
1. There are no janitors. Students are required to clean everyday, in shifts. I often see students bustling about with brooms, sweeping up the hallways and stairs.
2. Teachers are required to clean their own rooms. I sweep my room everyday, clean the desks and board twice a week, and empty my own garbage weekly. My company recently bought me a vacuum; I'm stoked.
3. Afternoon teaching is quite different. My class isn't very nice compared to regular classrooms. I have no air conditioning, television, or computer. As things are heating up here, I've had to open up my door and fan it back and forth, stirring up a slight breeze for the students. My principal was kind enough to demand an air conditioning unit and computer from my company, but I haven't heard back yet. I usually enjoy some coffee with the fellow six grade teachers on my floor in the break room after lunch and before teaching (regular teachers, that is. There is only one other afternoon teacher, Nicole, a very kind Korean. She's also from my company. She teaches phonics and reading, whereas I teach vocabulary and pronunciation.) My coffee sipping mates are all very friendly, flirtatious, and generous. They asked me if my room had air conditioning, and when I told them that it didn't, they gave me one of their spare fans (along with a dozen milk cartons, orange juice, rice cake candies, and other warm sentiments). My room is much cooler now. Update - My company has agreed to get me and Nicole air conditioners for our rooms asap.
4. Students are super dedicated to studying, even at a very early age. Many of my students go to regular school, afternoon school (with me), multiple hagwons for furthering their knowledge in English and other fields, and instrument lessons. Imagine that - second and third graders are studying literally all day. No wonder they're so playful in my classroom - they don't get to play much outside of school.
5. Teachers are never called by their last names. Students refer to their teachers as "songsaengnim," or, in my case, "Teacher." I wondered if this is true for all occupations in Korea, but upon asking another teacher about this, I found out that only teachers are called 'teacher.' In the States, the only people we call by their job titles is 'waiter.' In Korea, if you want to get the attention of you waiter, you say "ogeeyo," which literally means 'here,' only with the 'yo' for politeness.
I have a current school related problem. Many of my classes are, and have been, finished with their text and work books. I haven't been given any new material for them. My company has stated that I will not be getting any new books for several more weeks. The reason is because the parents of the students pay for the books, and their money has to last for three whole months before they are required to pay for new books. So, I'm tap dancing my way through class. It's difficult for me to come up with games to play because I have to make very simple rules so that the kids will understand. To help things, I've purchased an English - Korean dictionary to explain more challenging concepts. I must admit that my survival style of teaching is pretty boring. I hope to become a better teacher quickly. I've mostly been having the students write down sentences in their notebooks. Afterwards we practice saying them aloud. I often try to act out the words, so they can have a better visual to help them remember new vocabulary words. Sometimes we play hangman; sometimes we play the connection game - where I write 'tiger,' which ends in 'r' and the students have to come up with a word that begins with 'r.'
Anyhow, any teaching suggestions or recommendations are welcome. Prayer is welcome too. It's challenging to me because the language barrier is vast, and my experiences with the very little ones is quite limited. Giving me further stress is that the 17th of this month is going to be an 'open class' day, where the parents are welcomed to come and visit their students classes - with me teaching. I'm pretty nervous, and I don't know exactly what I'm going to be teaching. Some new text books and work materials would be very nice, but I doubt they are going to come in before open class day.
To end on a more positive note, I'm very glad to be here teaching. I know that as a foreign teacher with a very very limited handle on Hangul, I offer my students something unique. They are forced to communicate with me in English. My students all love to communicate, so they come up to me and say, "Teacher! ummm... chicken spelling."
"Oh, how do you spell chicken?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"C- h- i - c- k-e-n."
"Oh thank you, teacher."
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