The Art Base Cafe

I was referred to a new cafe by a Korean friend. It recently opened and proprietors were eager to meet people and have guests at their cafe. It doubles as an art studio, bookstore, place of community, and cafe.

I intentionally avoided the larger opening party, hoping to miss a largish crowd, so I decided to pay a visit a few days later on a Sunday morning just after they opened for the day at 11am. My friend had pulled up the location on the map in my phone, so I knew where to look. Actually, I walked all around the neighbour trying to find this cafe and was getting frustrated because the map showed I was at the right spot, but there was no sign of a cafe. That is until I looked up. There it was on the second floor above a pizzeria. No signage on the street level.

Like many shops in Korea these days, as soon as you step in, there is a temperature scanner and a sign-in sheet. While I was fiddling with my phone and registering my presence on the sign in sheet, the staff noticed me. He dropped what he was doing and rushed over to me. We had few awkward words in Korean where I explained that I didn't speak Korea, then he thankfully switched to passable English. There was only one other person in the shop at that time, and it was a middle school girl who likes to hang out in the cafe. She also came to greet me and was literally jumping up and down with excitement. I suppose they don't get a lot of customers, let alone foreigners, and I felt somewhat like a celebrity at that moment.

I explained that my friend had referred me to the cafe so I thought I'd stop by for a visit. They already knew of me from my friend. They knew that I was a teacher at a particular local school, and they were expecting me at their open house party. Word gets around when you're different.

I had a list prepared with some books that I hoped they could order for me, and then I wandered around the cafe look at the books (all in Korean) and the artwork (interesting but Greek to me). It was then that the second staff member came into the shop and immediately introduced himself. They said they'd search for the books online and contact me, and they explained a few of the art displays and their ideas for the cafe/bookstore/art studio/community place.

 

They asked if I wanted a coffee and while they prepared it, I sat on one of the couches near the middle school girl. She was pleased as punch to speak with me, although it was difficult to communicate. She was using her online dictionary to find the right English words. I'm glad she made the effort because I wasn't using my dictionary to understand her Korean.

The staff soon joined us for coffee on the couches and we talked for about an hour. I asked if the middle school girl enjoyed English class. She proceeded to pull out from her pocket a crumpled and ripped piece of paper. She unfolded her report card and showed me her final English grade - 36/100. She then laughed hysterically. Well maybe she's not much for studying English, but she was wonderful to chat with (through the interpretation of the online dictionary).

On my way out, I bought some postcards designed by a local artist. They wouldn't let me pay for the cafe latte and they invited me to come back again.

My Open Class

Once per term, teachers give an "open class" that other people may view and review. The principal, vice-principal, teachers, or even parents may attend the lesson. The open class is a major factor in determining if a teacher will be hired back next year, or for permanent teachers, it can influence their ratings and career progression. All in all, a stressful event.

My previous three open classes were quite unusual because of the pandemic. While technically "open", my classes were online and pre-recorded. So, if people viewed my lesson, it wasn't in real-time or in-person. It had no effect on me either way. Also, I had some leeway when I did my open class and what I taught. I typically made a "free topic" lesson on a fun subject that was not part of the textbook.

This time was different because all classes are now in-person, so I would be doing my first "live" open class. The schedule in November is packed with exams, speaking tests, and field trips, so I didn't have any choice of the date of my open class or the lesson I was to teach. Needing to stay on schedule, I had no choice but to teach a lesson from the textbook. And textbooks lessons are definitely boring compared to free topics, and of course, students don't react as well to boring textbook material.

My Korean co-teacher was stressing out about her open class and by extension, was expecting me to be stressed about mine. I explained to her that I was not worried and that I would not do anything different from what I normally do in class. And, most importantly, I felt that the open classes were meaningless, especially for me at this point, because I am leaving the school in a matter of months. There is nothing that could possibly happen in the open class that could affect me in any real way.

I gave an impromptu mini English lesson to my Korean co-teacher on the meaning of "low-stakes" and "high-stakes." I explained that the open class for me was a low-stakes event. But for her, it was high-stakes because she needed to do well in order to be hired back at the school. She has run afoul of school leadership for reporting late for work too often this year. I'm sure she believes she needs a positive open class to make up for it.

But the open classes really are been meaningless for me. Not once have I received any positive or negative feedback from any of my previous open classes. No one said anything to me. And, as I said, I don't know if anyone event observed the lessons.  So, getting feedback now at the end of the school year, after I've been teaching at the school for so long would just be.... too late.

So the day of my open class arrives and I'm surprised that I'm actually a little nervous. I think it's because the lesson will be recorded. I was asked to set up my phone at the back of the class and record the full lesson. No doubt the video will be low quality, but it's just one more thing to worry about. Also, I'm teaching with my least favourite Korean co-teacher who constantly interrupts me for stupid reasons and exerts control in the class whenever she can, even though she didn't help plan the lesson. Funny enough, I think she at least subconsciously knew that what she usually does is wrong because when the camera was recording this time, she barely interrupted me at all. It was "my class", for once.

So, the open class was going well and as expected no one except the students and co-teacher came to the lesson. That is, until the last 7 minutes or so of the class when one of the department heads, a teacher who teaches a subject other than English, came into the back of the class. She fiddled with the door for a while, making a distraction until my co-teacher let her in. She stood at the back of the class, walking in front of the recording camera and observed me teach for 7 minutes. 

The students behaved well during the class and raised their hands more often than they normally do, so I was happy with class participation. They received a heads up beforehand that this was an open class. They grumbled, "why did you choose us?" I originally wanted my open lesson to be with a more lively class, but it wasn't possible because of the schedule.

I'm glad it's finished. Let's see if I receive any feedback on my teaching this time. I doubt it.

The Wifi was down

The wifi wasn't working at my apartment when I returned home from work and the gym around 6pm on Tuesday. The next morning I informed my Korean teacher at the school. She promised to call the apartment office to get it fixed. 

Another day went by and it still hadn't been fixed. Living in a foreign country, I really depend on the wifi to stay in touch with people, and simply to entertain myself and kill time when I'm at home. I even play rain sounds on YouTube when I go to bed to help me fall asleep. With the wifi still down, I was starting to feel the inconvenience. 

On Thursday evenings, I have a regularly recurring call with some friends from Japan. We practice speaking English and generally have a nice conversation. Since the wifi wasn't working, I asked the Korean teacher if I could come to the school at 8pm to have my video call there. She said it wouldn't be a problem and gave me the key to the English room. 

The building would be locked, but she would call ahead to the night security guard who would be expecting me and let me into the building.

I texted my co-teacher a few minutes before I left for the school and called her when I arrived at the locked school door. There was no answer and no sign of the night security guard. The school was very dark and quite creepy at night. I waited at the door for a while but decided to leave. I didn't want to be mistaken for a night thief.

With only a few minutes before the start of my call, I rushed to the nearest cafe, ordered a green tea latte and set up the wifi. I wanted to avoid the cafe because it plays fairly loud music and there are often many customers, which would make it difficult to hear and speak on the video call. Also, I would have to wear a facemask if I were near other people. I managed to get everything set up in time for the call, although I was frazzled and distracted. The call was fine, just a little too much background noise in the cafe.

The Korean teacher apologized the next day for failing to take my call and arrange for my use of the school after hours. Yet, I was pretty frustrated that there were no indications that the wifi would be fixed anytime soon. 

As I've learned here, if I want to move things along I have to make some kind of absurd threat. I told my Korean teacher that I couldn't stay in the apartment until the wifi was restored, so I would be staying in a hotel. That really shocked her frugal mindset. I turned the knife once more and said that I want the apartment staff to pay for my hotel stay. She tried to explain that it was unlikely to happen as these things just aren't done. I insisted.

Within two hours my wifi was fixed at my home and I didn't need to find a hotel. Later in the day, the teacher said she couldn't believe how serious I was about the inconvenience.

It always seems to work that way. When I needed medicated skin cream and had been asking for weeks, I was finally taken to the doctor after I said I'd go to Canada to see a doctor. When my boys' classes were becoming truly unruly and the Korean co-teachers weren't attending class, that situation wasn't resolved until I said that I changed my mind and I wouldn't renew my contract. 

Always, I try to be reasonable at first. Inevitably, when that doesn't work, I have to raise the stakes.

Catholic Gardening

Last Friday the teachers at my main school were scheduled for a fun little excursion in the afternoon when the students had left for the day. Professional development and field trips are back on the agenda now that COVID-19 is apparently an afterthought, even though cases are as high as ever in Korea. Thankfully, Busan remains relatively free of the virus. We maintain our usual precautions such as wearing facemasks but proceed with the "living with Covid" phase that Korea has now transitioned to.

Our field trip was a short 15-minute drive from the school at the Catholic Education Centre in Busan, named "Aloysius" after a founding priest, as far as I could tell from the old photos and information at the site. The Sisters of Mary operate a daycare and other child education facilities as well as public gardens and a small cafe. There were other rooms at the center for hosting events such as musical concerts and other functions. All in all, it was an impressive facility perched high up on one of Busan's many steep hills, which we had to climb by foot from the parking lot below.

The teachers were divided into two groups, those who signed up for the "pizza-making" session and those who chose the "gardening" session. Can you guess which of the two I chose? Well, that doesn't matter because I wasn't given a choice at all. My co-teacher signed me up for the gardening class.

When we first arrived, we were given a very brief tour of the indoor greenhouse and then we were guided past the pizza-making group who were standing around a large brick oven. We enjoyed a view from the outdoor gardens that are used by local families and groups for growing vegetables. Then we landed in a workshop where we were to assemble a small potted plant which we got to take home. The pizza-making group's departing gift was a personal pizza for each person.

Our potted plant assembly lesson was taught by a man and an old but bubbly nun who were very excited about plants. I couldn't understand the presentation or instructions, but the nun took an interest in me and did her best to explain everything in her broken English.

The process was fairly simple. Fill our pot with dirt, choose a couple of plants, arrange them stylistically, decorate the surrounding dirt with little trinkets and volcanic rocks from Jeju island, and use the glue gun to stick some cutesy character ornaments on the rocks. We then covered the remaining dirt with pleasing white stones. We inserted a small wooden sign in the dirt to mark the date of our botanical creation. I received a small plastic bag to carry the plant home, where I put it next to my TV. Who needs pizza anyway?

The teachers gathered in the coffee shop for a beverage that we had pre-ordered at the school. My co-teacher and I both had iced coffee. Trying to be nice, I got up from the table and grabbed two straws from the counter, and brought them back for the teacher and I. Instead, my teacher didn't drink her coffee. She carried it out with her and returned the straw to the counter, which I'm still puzzled by. 

On the ride home, I learned that the nuns used to operate a middle school, high school, and dormitory at that site for orphans. However, due to financial limitations, they had to close the school. The orphans were sent throughout the city to regular public schools where they often were subjected to discrimination from the other children. I learned of this on the same day I heard that Elon Musk had made $36 billion dollars in a single day.

It was a fun day even though pretty much none of the teachers spoke to me. I got a kick out of the nun, especially when she insisted on tying my apron for the gardening class and then whispered, "Fit? Yes!"