I am a different teacher here in Korea than I was 10 years ago in Japan. I didn't necessarily set out to change my teaching style, nor was I initially aware of any changes in my approach to teaching. But after one month of in-class teaching, I realize that I've changed as a teacher. This may be the natural result of maturing over the years or unconsciously applying the lessons I learned in Japan to my tenure in Korea.
In Japan, even though I didn't have any experience or proper training, I had a firm belief that I was a "teacher" and was deserving of the respect afforded to teachers in that country. I came about that perspective naturally enough. It was part of the training and orientation in Japan. Teachers are held in high esteem in Japanese society. Students will call you Sensei. You need to behave as a Sensei in the community. Without really examining it, I took that to heart.
At my Japanese schools, there was some respect for me as a teacher, and many students were wonderful. But also, there were students who were very disrespectful, and even actively hostile. Some students made fun of my weight and others sneered at me. I think a dislike for studying and speaking English translated to antagonism for the teacher, in some cases. Many students were eager and playful, but I rarely received the respect of a real teacher. It's understandable. I couldn't speak Japanese well. My responsibilities in the classroom were limited. I was often a classroom assistant.
On top of everything, Japanese students completely and incessantly invaded my personal space by grabbing me and poking my body. This was infuriating. I wanted to be respected as a teacher but wasn't even worthy of basic human respect. I rarely showed it, but this made me really angry. I still feel that grabbing and poking was a violation, but it was more often the students just trying to have fun and wasn't outside of their normal behaviour. There were a few times, and a few students, who did this maliciously, and it still burns to this day.
In the classroom, even though I wasn't a proper teacher, I firmly believed that students weren't allowed to ignore me. I'm not sure why I had this perspective, but I guess it came from wanting to be respected as a teacher. If students ignored my direct question by putting down their head or looking away, I wouldn't let that stand. I wasted so much time trying to get the student to respond and wouldn't move on until they did. It was a matter of respect and principle. Instead, I should have been more attentive to the comprehension level of the students and more sensitive to their desire not to make a mistake or be singled out in front of their peers.
In Korea, I have more responsibilities as a teacher. I fully run the lessons and do all of the preparations. The Korean teacher in the classroom basically helps translates and assists with classroom discipline. I am a real teacher - minus some of the administrative responsibilities, but I am more laid back about the whole "respect thing".
I'm more interested in having the lesson flow well than forcing students to participate. I may call on students to answer a question, but if they say "I don't know" then there's no problem, I just move on. If they pause for too long, I ask if they want to "pass". If they pass, fair enough. I'm happy moving onto someone else or just answering the question myself because I get to keep the flow of the lesson and maintain the energy level in the classroom.
During my first lesson with each class in Korea, I outlined some rules for the classroom. One rule was that they should try to speak English, but mistakes were okay. Also, students should be kind to each other, and it's okay to help their classmates during English class.
I certainly feel more respected by the students because they respect me as a human being first. They have yet to grab or poke me or do anything overtly disrespectful. The worst so far has been students shouting the wrong things in class when I'm looking for an answer. They might shout "I love you", trying to be funny. I find myself laughing more in class these days.
All in all, I am much busier and have more teaching responsibilities, but I am less concerned about being treated as a "teacher". The students are good kids and I enjoy spending time with them. I have a job to do and I'm having fun doing it. That's all that matters right now.
Sunday, 28 June 2020
Sunday, 21 June 2020
Conversations at School
Boiled down, my job consists of classroom teaching, lesson preparation, and informal speaking interactions.
I spend 20 teaching hours per week in the classroom delivering English language lessons to middle school students at two schools in South Korean. Delivering information, maintaining order, and engaging with the students is exhausting work, but there is nothing like the feeling of having a class go well. It's an incredible high that, unfortunately, is still pretty rare for me. I'm having fewer and fewer terrible lessons, and more and more decent lessons. The great lessons are rare but deeply satisfying and motivating.
The second major element of my work is lesson planning. Basically, any spare minute at school when I'm not teaching, I am (or should be) preparing lessons for the next week. I'm more comfortable now with the flow of lessons, what the students can reasonably handle, and how long each activity should generally take. I have picked up intuitive little tricks when I need to speed up a lesson or slow it down to ensure that I cover the material within the 40 minute period. The biggest challenge is getting students to participate. Sometimes, I feel like I'm teaching to the same 3 or 4 students each class, while the other students just sit back with blank looks on their faces. I think the students understand now that I may call on them randomly if no one volunteers. I give out stickers to encourage participation, but I worry that the stickers may be losing their appeal after a few weeks. I need another reward that the students will want but won't break my budget.
A minor part of being a teacher at my schools, but by far the most enjoyable, is my random and informal conversations with students and teachers. Every chance I get I arrive to class early to mingle with the students to have a conversation or joke around. Also, I have random and short interactions with students in the halls between classes or during lunch.
Almost as a reflex, whenever I walk by a student, they will say "Hello Teacher!" Some of the students are exceedingly enthusiastic and I wonder why that energy disappears the moment class begins. But the shouts of "Hi Teacher" are a nice boost of confidence and adds to my pseudo-celebrity status as the only non-Korean at the school.
Some students try to tell me funny things about their friends to embarrass them. They'll say things like, "He's dangerous" or "He's crazy!" And the other student will say, "No, no, no. He's crazy!" It's not sophisticated, but at least it's in English.
A group of boys jokingly tried to tell me they were in the Blood Gang and flashed some gang signs. "Very dangerous," they said. Anything to shock the teacher.
A usually very quiet girl spoke to me at the end of class and said that "It's my birthday today". I gave her a sticker and wished her a happy birthday. This was one of my nicer interactions.
If I see a student with an injury (sprained wrist, scraped knee), I ask them to explain what happened. Usually, it's some sort of basketball injury or a trip and fall on the sidewalk. It's a good way to start a conversation and learn more about the students. I tell them, "don't fight" and they think that's funny.
Another girl always drinks this green lemon soda in class. The bottle looks just like dish soap. It even has a little lemon on the front. I joke around with her that she likes to drink soap. So, that's our thing. I pretend that she's drinking soap and she pretends that I'm funny.
In one corner of the school, there is a couch and several bookshelves for the students to sit down, relax, and read. I've never actually seen a student reading there, but I thought I'd grab a book and practice reading in Korean. I can read phonetically, for the most part, but don't understand the meaning of the words. I thought it would be nice for the students to see my trying to learn Korean, and perhaps they could help me understand a few words. I had a book in my hand and I had no idea what I was reading. A boy came to me so I asked him what the title meant. He paused for a minute, trying to find the right words. Then he said, "Stupid and Stupid". Yes, an apt title for how I feel in Korea.
One particular teacher at the school always speaks to me despite having some challenges with the language. While not an English teacher, he is dedicated to studying and learning English, and he has taught me a lot about Korea and the local area. One day he was talking about the change in weather. We are currently in the rainy season here in Korea and in a few weeks, it will turn into the hottest part of the summer. He said it will be "the dog days". I was impressed and thought, "Wow, he knows the expression, dog days of summer. That's really good." Not quite. Actually, what he was talking about was the tradition of eating dog at this time of year. In the hottest days of summer, people traditionally didn't have a lot of food so they raised a dog for the family who would then sacrifice it's body so the family could have nourishment and strength. He said that since the world has decided that eating dogs was bad, it was switched to chicken. Now it's the chicken days of summer. It doesn't have the same ring to it. I have no intention of eating dog even though it's apparently still available in the country.
The things I hear from the Korean students and teachers are amazing. I think it's an important part of my role to encourage fluency and interest in speaking with foreign people. Casual conversation helps me feel like a member of the school, and I'm impressed with the students' speaking ability and their willingness to try to speak English with me.
I spend 20 teaching hours per week in the classroom delivering English language lessons to middle school students at two schools in South Korean. Delivering information, maintaining order, and engaging with the students is exhausting work, but there is nothing like the feeling of having a class go well. It's an incredible high that, unfortunately, is still pretty rare for me. I'm having fewer and fewer terrible lessons, and more and more decent lessons. The great lessons are rare but deeply satisfying and motivating.
The second major element of my work is lesson planning. Basically, any spare minute at school when I'm not teaching, I am (or should be) preparing lessons for the next week. I'm more comfortable now with the flow of lessons, what the students can reasonably handle, and how long each activity should generally take. I have picked up intuitive little tricks when I need to speed up a lesson or slow it down to ensure that I cover the material within the 40 minute period. The biggest challenge is getting students to participate. Sometimes, I feel like I'm teaching to the same 3 or 4 students each class, while the other students just sit back with blank looks on their faces. I think the students understand now that I may call on them randomly if no one volunteers. I give out stickers to encourage participation, but I worry that the stickers may be losing their appeal after a few weeks. I need another reward that the students will want but won't break my budget.
A minor part of being a teacher at my schools, but by far the most enjoyable, is my random and informal conversations with students and teachers. Every chance I get I arrive to class early to mingle with the students to have a conversation or joke around. Also, I have random and short interactions with students in the halls between classes or during lunch.
Almost as a reflex, whenever I walk by a student, they will say "Hello Teacher!" Some of the students are exceedingly enthusiastic and I wonder why that energy disappears the moment class begins. But the shouts of "Hi Teacher" are a nice boost of confidence and adds to my pseudo-celebrity status as the only non-Korean at the school.
Some students try to tell me funny things about their friends to embarrass them. They'll say things like, "He's dangerous" or "He's crazy!" And the other student will say, "No, no, no. He's crazy!" It's not sophisticated, but at least it's in English.
A group of boys jokingly tried to tell me they were in the Blood Gang and flashed some gang signs. "Very dangerous," they said. Anything to shock the teacher.
A usually very quiet girl spoke to me at the end of class and said that "It's my birthday today". I gave her a sticker and wished her a happy birthday. This was one of my nicer interactions.
If I see a student with an injury (sprained wrist, scraped knee), I ask them to explain what happened. Usually, it's some sort of basketball injury or a trip and fall on the sidewalk. It's a good way to start a conversation and learn more about the students. I tell them, "don't fight" and they think that's funny.
Another girl always drinks this green lemon soda in class. The bottle looks just like dish soap. It even has a little lemon on the front. I joke around with her that she likes to drink soap. So, that's our thing. I pretend that she's drinking soap and she pretends that I'm funny.
In one corner of the school, there is a couch and several bookshelves for the students to sit down, relax, and read. I've never actually seen a student reading there, but I thought I'd grab a book and practice reading in Korean. I can read phonetically, for the most part, but don't understand the meaning of the words. I thought it would be nice for the students to see my trying to learn Korean, and perhaps they could help me understand a few words. I had a book in my hand and I had no idea what I was reading. A boy came to me so I asked him what the title meant. He paused for a minute, trying to find the right words. Then he said, "Stupid and Stupid". Yes, an apt title for how I feel in Korea.
One particular teacher at the school always speaks to me despite having some challenges with the language. While not an English teacher, he is dedicated to studying and learning English, and he has taught me a lot about Korea and the local area. One day he was talking about the change in weather. We are currently in the rainy season here in Korea and in a few weeks, it will turn into the hottest part of the summer. He said it will be "the dog days". I was impressed and thought, "Wow, he knows the expression, dog days of summer. That's really good." Not quite. Actually, what he was talking about was the tradition of eating dog at this time of year. In the hottest days of summer, people traditionally didn't have a lot of food so they raised a dog for the family who would then sacrifice it's body so the family could have nourishment and strength. He said that since the world has decided that eating dogs was bad, it was switched to chicken. Now it's the chicken days of summer. It doesn't have the same ring to it. I have no intention of eating dog even though it's apparently still available in the country.
The things I hear from the Korean students and teachers are amazing. I think it's an important part of my role to encourage fluency and interest in speaking with foreign people. Casual conversation helps me feel like a member of the school, and I'm impressed with the students' speaking ability and their willingness to try to speak English with me.
Sunday, 14 June 2020
All Boys Middle School
Like many teachers in the EPIK program in Korea, I have lessons at more than one school. My main middle school is a short walk from my apartment and I teach there on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. My other school is an all-boys middle school that is about 30 minutes away by subway and a long walk uphill.
Under normal circumstances, I would've visited the boys school consistently since March, but as you know, there have been many delays to the start of the school year, plus a 2-month period of online lessons. Since the students weren't going to the school in person, I wasn't required to attend either. Instead, I just emailed my recorded lessons to the teacher to be uploaded for the students. With the coronavirus restrictions gradually being lifted, it was now time to get back onto a regular schedule and I made preparations to attend the boys middle school on Mondays and Tuesdays moving forward.
A day or two before my first day at the boys school, I was informed by the teacher there that the grade 1 and 2 classes alternate attendance at the school each week. The grade that stays home receives online lessons. Apparently, the school cafeteria is too small to accommodate all students safely so alternating attendance is required. They share a cafeteria with an adjacent boys high school.
When I arrived at the school I was relieved to learn that I could simply record the lessons, as I had been doing, and they would be uploaded for the students at home at the set time. This was a wonderful development because it dramatically reduced the number of classes I have to teach each week at the boys school. Thankfully, I will have more free time during the day to prepare for the in-person classes.
I stumbled upon more good fortune on Monday. Since it was that was the very first day that the grade 1s came to school, my three morning classes were cancelled. The students had to take care of administrative matters. Also, one class on Tuesday was cancelled as well. Normally I would be scheduled for 10 in-person classes over two days, but I only taught 3 in-person classes this week. Strangely, one of my classes was cancelled after I had already been teaching for 5 minutes. A teacher showed up, called me into the hallway, and explained that I should go take a break. It was an unusual but welcomed start to my time at the school.
The previous native English teacher left me a note about what to expect at the school. It was a warning of sorts, that the students don't prioritize learning English, and there can be some difficulty maintaining order in the class. Also, he gave a heads up that classes are often cancelled, and I have to stay on my toes for schedule changes. True on all counts, I learned almost immediately.
I did notice that there were an unusually high number of boys with various injuries like broken arms, foot casts, sprained wristed, broken fingers, and black eyes. I hope it was because they were really into sports, and not rioting at the school. The boys were friendly enough, and the classes were high energy. Certainly difficult to control. When I asked the class to write something, there was an audible groan from a boy in the first row.
I actually enjoyed teaching at the boys school. I prefer energy and excitement during the lesson rather than awkward silence and boredom. Some of the boys would shout answers, while others were super polite when called upon and stood up out of their chair to answer the question. The English fluency level was rather low, but I did meet one boy who was basically fluent in English. Having a mixed-ability classroom is a common challenge for English teachers in Korean. Still, it's nice to know at least one student understands me.
Week 2 at the boys school is coming up. I'm feeling more confident in my lessons and have at least some sense of how to keep things entertaining and educational for the students. Hopefully, there won't be any more surprises with the schedule.
 |
| The school sits atop a steep hill. |
Under normal circumstances, I would've visited the boys school consistently since March, but as you know, there have been many delays to the start of the school year, plus a 2-month period of online lessons. Since the students weren't going to the school in person, I wasn't required to attend either. Instead, I just emailed my recorded lessons to the teacher to be uploaded for the students. With the coronavirus restrictions gradually being lifted, it was now time to get back onto a regular schedule and I made preparations to attend the boys middle school on Mondays and Tuesdays moving forward.
A day or two before my first day at the boys school, I was informed by the teacher there that the grade 1 and 2 classes alternate attendance at the school each week. The grade that stays home receives online lessons. Apparently, the school cafeteria is too small to accommodate all students safely so alternating attendance is required. They share a cafeteria with an adjacent boys high school.
 |
| Lovely coworkers made a welcome sign for me |
 |
| My desk. Making a lesson about food. |
 |
| Indoor Shoes |
When I arrived at the school I was relieved to learn that I could simply record the lessons, as I had been doing, and they would be uploaded for the students at home at the set time. This was a wonderful development because it dramatically reduced the number of classes I have to teach each week at the boys school. Thankfully, I will have more free time during the day to prepare for the in-person classes.
I stumbled upon more good fortune on Monday. Since it was that was the very first day that the grade 1s came to school, my three morning classes were cancelled. The students had to take care of administrative matters. Also, one class on Tuesday was cancelled as well. Normally I would be scheduled for 10 in-person classes over two days, but I only taught 3 in-person classes this week. Strangely, one of my classes was cancelled after I had already been teaching for 5 minutes. A teacher showed up, called me into the hallway, and explained that I should go take a break. It was an unusual but welcomed start to my time at the school.
 |
| Daily School Schedule |
I did notice that there were an unusually high number of boys with various injuries like broken arms, foot casts, sprained wristed, broken fingers, and black eyes. I hope it was because they were really into sports, and not rioting at the school. The boys were friendly enough, and the classes were high energy. Certainly difficult to control. When I asked the class to write something, there was an audible groan from a boy in the first row.
 |
| Artwork at the All-Boys Middle School. One can sympathize. |
Week 2 at the boys school is coming up. I'm feeling more confident in my lessons and have at least some sense of how to keep things entertaining and educational for the students. Hopefully, there won't be any more surprises with the schedule.
Sunday, 7 June 2020
The First Week of June
Even though it was a relatively short week for me, only having lessons on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, June has started with a flurry of activity.
I woke up Monday morning happy and relieved that I would have the full day plus Tuesday to plan lessons and get organized for the latter part of the week. These two days being my very last free days at school. Henceforth, all grades will be at school and I will have in-person classes every day. I planned and prepared and felt pretty decent about my upcoming lessons. I had a rough first week with the 3rd graders but I would now see them for the second time. I wanted to be ready. The 2nd graders came to school on Wednesday this week, and I felt confident that things would go well, although there were still several unknowns that I would have to figure out.
My optimism took a nose-dive almost immediately on Wednesday morning. I was scheduled for a period 2 class from 9:50 - 10:30am. I was slowly getting ready and just taking some time to relax. I had arrived at school at 8:15am. At 9am, my co-teacher said, “Didn’t you hear about the schedule change? Your class is period 1.” I most definitely did not hear about the schedule change. When does the first period begin? 9am. What time is it right now? 9am.
I quickly gathered my things and scurried to the class, arriving late. And immediately after my late arrival, yet again the classroom technology failed. More accurately, I couldn’t figure out how to hook up the computer. The technician was sent for, and more lesson time was wasted. I think I lost all credibility with these students because it was a bad lesson with these same students two weeks in a row.
I lumbered back to the teachers' room in astonishment at how bad I looked and how bad the lesson felt. Another Korean teacher asked (very much too late) if I had learned about the schedule change. I explained what happened and that it was a disaster. She said I was lucky because the technician is only in-house Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I would have been without help if this were to happen on a Tuesday or Thursday. Luck is a relative term, isn’t it?
Later that day I was to have my first lesson with a grade 2 class, and it would be my first lesson with a particular co-teacher. Since there had been no communication prior to the class, the first lesson would finally unveil the co-teacher's style and expectations, which should ideally be discussed well in advance. Do they stand at the back of the room or do they actively participate? Do they handle student discipline or is that for the native teacher to sort out? Do they translate and explain in Korean, or is it left to me to explain everything in English?
Unfortunately, and again at the last minute, I was informed that my co-teacher had suddenly left the school and was not available for the lesson. Another Korean English would stand in as a substitute. All in all, it was a good lesson and the Korean teacher was helpful, but I am not regularly scheduled with that teacher in a normal week.
And what happened to my co-teacher who suddenly left the school? Apparently, she had a fever and went to the public health centre to be tested for COVID-19. I assume I will either see her tomorrow or be informed that she is sick.
There was a second COVID-19 scare at the school this week. During my Thursday afternoon class, I noticed one of my students speak to the Korean teacher and then leave the classroom. Later, the school nurse came to the classroom and collected the student's things from her desk. I didn't think much of it at the time since I was busy teaching. At the end of the day, I went to the first floor to put on my shoes and walk home. I spotted an ambulance in the parking lot, and an EMS dressed in a hazmat suit was loading a student into the ambulance. When he drove away I asked a teacher what was going on. He said that a student had a fever and was being taken to the hospital for testing. It was my student. Hopefully, it was just a regular fever and not the coronavirus. The close calls are nerve-wracking, but so far we haven't had a positive case.
I had a funny little interaction with a boy in middle school 2nd grade. He is basically fluent in English. We were chatting before our first class together was to begin. He casually dropped a "holy shit" to showcase his fluency. He said he watched a lot of English programs on Netflix and, of course, studied very hard. He asked if I had ever watched "The Good Place"? I hadn't but wanted to connect with the student, so I said, "I heard it's a good show." He responded, "It's not a show, it's a drama." Middle school, what can I say?
I concluded this strange first week of June by working all weekend on my lesson preparations. I think now that I am in the routine, I won't need to work on the weekends anymore. At least, I hope so.
I woke up Monday morning happy and relieved that I would have the full day plus Tuesday to plan lessons and get organized for the latter part of the week. These two days being my very last free days at school. Henceforth, all grades will be at school and I will have in-person classes every day. I planned and prepared and felt pretty decent about my upcoming lessons. I had a rough first week with the 3rd graders but I would now see them for the second time. I wanted to be ready. The 2nd graders came to school on Wednesday this week, and I felt confident that things would go well, although there were still several unknowns that I would have to figure out.
My optimism took a nose-dive almost immediately on Wednesday morning. I was scheduled for a period 2 class from 9:50 - 10:30am. I was slowly getting ready and just taking some time to relax. I had arrived at school at 8:15am. At 9am, my co-teacher said, “Didn’t you hear about the schedule change? Your class is period 1.” I most definitely did not hear about the schedule change. When does the first period begin? 9am. What time is it right now? 9am.
I quickly gathered my things and scurried to the class, arriving late. And immediately after my late arrival, yet again the classroom technology failed. More accurately, I couldn’t figure out how to hook up the computer. The technician was sent for, and more lesson time was wasted. I think I lost all credibility with these students because it was a bad lesson with these same students two weeks in a row.
I lumbered back to the teachers' room in astonishment at how bad I looked and how bad the lesson felt. Another Korean teacher asked (very much too late) if I had learned about the schedule change. I explained what happened and that it was a disaster. She said I was lucky because the technician is only in-house Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I would have been without help if this were to happen on a Tuesday or Thursday. Luck is a relative term, isn’t it?
Later that day I was to have my first lesson with a grade 2 class, and it would be my first lesson with a particular co-teacher. Since there had been no communication prior to the class, the first lesson would finally unveil the co-teacher's style and expectations, which should ideally be discussed well in advance. Do they stand at the back of the room or do they actively participate? Do they handle student discipline or is that for the native teacher to sort out? Do they translate and explain in Korean, or is it left to me to explain everything in English?
Unfortunately, and again at the last minute, I was informed that my co-teacher had suddenly left the school and was not available for the lesson. Another Korean English would stand in as a substitute. All in all, it was a good lesson and the Korean teacher was helpful, but I am not regularly scheduled with that teacher in a normal week.
And what happened to my co-teacher who suddenly left the school? Apparently, she had a fever and went to the public health centre to be tested for COVID-19. I assume I will either see her tomorrow or be informed that she is sick.
There was a second COVID-19 scare at the school this week. During my Thursday afternoon class, I noticed one of my students speak to the Korean teacher and then leave the classroom. Later, the school nurse came to the classroom and collected the student's things from her desk. I didn't think much of it at the time since I was busy teaching. At the end of the day, I went to the first floor to put on my shoes and walk home. I spotted an ambulance in the parking lot, and an EMS dressed in a hazmat suit was loading a student into the ambulance. When he drove away I asked a teacher what was going on. He said that a student had a fever and was being taken to the hospital for testing. It was my student. Hopefully, it was just a regular fever and not the coronavirus. The close calls are nerve-wracking, but so far we haven't had a positive case.
I had a funny little interaction with a boy in middle school 2nd grade. He is basically fluent in English. We were chatting before our first class together was to begin. He casually dropped a "holy shit" to showcase his fluency. He said he watched a lot of English programs on Netflix and, of course, studied very hard. He asked if I had ever watched "The Good Place"? I hadn't but wanted to connect with the student, so I said, "I heard it's a good show." He responded, "It's not a show, it's a drama." Middle school, what can I say?
I concluded this strange first week of June by working all weekend on my lesson preparations. I think now that I am in the routine, I won't need to work on the weekends anymore. At least, I hope so.
Saturday, 30 May 2020
Students Return to School
After three months of delays, my middle school is now open for students. This week the Grade 3s had the school to themselves. The 1st and 2nd graders will continue with their online classes for another week or so, after which our school will be full.
I was apprehensive about the school opening on two points. First, will safety procedures be enforced to ensure that students and teachers are safe and the spread of COVID-19 is minimized? Second, will I be prepared to conduct lessons?
Several new rules and procedures were put into place but very little of it was explained to me until that last minute. I did my best to find out information on my own, and piece together what I could. The high-tech first defence employed at our school is walk through temperature scanners at the door. Students and teachers have their temperatures read before entering the school. If your temperature is too high then I presume you will be pulled aside and not permitted to attend school that day. So far I have been well within the acceptable range.
There are secondary temperature checks before lunch, hand sanitizer is well placed throughout the school, and everyone wears masks in the classrooms. Students are supposed to keep their distance throughout the day. Desks are spread out in the classroom, and students nor teachers are permitted to sit together in the cafeteria. One person per table is strictly enforced. There are posters throughout the school reminding students of the required safe distance from others.
Perhaps the biggest imposition on me personally is that students must stay in their desks throughout the lesson. This is especially burdensome in an English language class where pair and group work are important learning methods, and moving around the classroom is essential to facilitate conversation. I need to find creative ways to engage the students, without having them leave their desks.
I think these safety precautions and classroom restrictions are totally pointless. As soon as the bell rings, the students run out into the hallway and are within close proximity to each other. I saw boys roughhousing, arm-wrestling, running and chasing, and doing all the things you'd expect of middle school boys. The girls walk arm in arm and squish their faces together to make cute little poses. Some students remove their masks in the classroom until they are caught and corrected by the teacher. I am resigned to the fact that if any student has the coronavirus, it will quickly spread throughout the whole school population.
As for teaching, I couldn't sleep the night before my first lesson. I didn't know what classes would be like, and I was still unclear about some of the simple details like, should I bring my own utensils for lunch? And, what would the co-teacher actually do in the classroom? Importantly, I didn't know if my lessons were level-appropriate for my students. As you know, I had to plan all of these lessons without ever having met the students.
My first class was an utter disaster. Seriously. I went to the English room about 10 minutes early to set up the computer and TV. Just before I expected students to arrive, another teacher told me she needed the English room. This was very strange because I had a class scheduled there in a matter of minutes. Suddenly my co-teacher ran into the room and explained that lessons will not take place in the English room as previously planned but in the students' homeroom classroom.
This last-minute change had me frazzled from the beginning.
I arrived in the proper classroom and couldn't figure out how to hook up the laptop to the HDMI TV. The co-teacher didn't know either and went to find the technician. I was left fiddling with the computer and TV for a while, wondering whether or not to proceed with the lesson without any visuals. The class started nearly 10 minutes late and my lesson plan was shot to hell. When you lose 10 minutes of a 40 minute class period, it's hard to get back on track.
Students were quiet and non-participatory. So much awkward silence. No one volunteered to speak or answer any of my questions. With the face masks, I couldn't read their faces to know if they were understanding me, interested or confused. The co-teacher, trying to console me, said "it was the students first day back from online lessons, so they were not motivated." Defeated and demoralized, the class ended. It can only get better from here, right?
My next class was marginally better, but still seriously problematic. At least I was able to hook up the HDMI TV without issue, so this gave me some extra time to mingle with the students before the class. I decided that I needed to give the students some incentive to participate, so I assigned each row as a team. Every time someone from that team answered a question, that team would earn a point. The team with the most points at the end of class won stickers from Canada. Some students participated, but for many others, the stickers had no motivating effect.
I ended up running out of time in the lesson. I wasn't aware until my co-teacher informed me with about five minutes left, as I was scrambling to complete as much of the lesson as I could, that we had to stop the lesson early to take each student's temperature before lunch. I was about halfway through the lesson. It was a somewhat depressing but important lesson for me because it seems it doesn't matter how much of my lesson I complete. In fact, it doesn't seem like my lessons matter at all.
It was finally time for school lunch. The food wasn't great this week, and I had to eat while distancing from others, but it was a nice break from having entire classes of students awkwardly stare at me.
The school is hosting 16 university students from Busan National University as part of their training to become teachers. Two teacher-trainees observed my class on Thursday morning and four attended my afternoon class. I didn't know they would be attending when I saw them walk into the back of the classroom. I had them introduce themselves to the class and asked that they help the students individually during the lesson. Students don't really understand me, so it was great to have all of these extra teachers in the room. For one lesson, between me and the co-teacher and the teacher-trainees, there were six teachers in the classroom. That was by far my best lesson of the week.
I had some momentum going at the end of Thursday and I thought things were improving after a very difficult start to my in-class teaching. I only had one class on Friday, but it was the last period of the afternoon. I guess the students, the boys especially, were pretty much done with it for the week so it was an incredibly difficult class. Even though I already taught this lesson once before, it was a struggle from start to finish. Many students were misbehaving and some were sleeping. Very few students took it seriously at all. The co-teacher did well in translating my instructions and controlling the class. It would have been even worse had she not been there.
I think I made a bad first impression with this class because I was encouraging them to sit down so we could start the lesson on time, but I must've misjudged the time because partway through the opening, the bell went off. I had started the class too early. Having stolen a few minutes of their break, the boys groaned and complained. What's worse, in two weeks I will have an open lesson with this particular class, and the principal and other teachers will observe. I picked the worst-behaved class to have visitors join us. Can't wait.
It was a crazy week and I only taught five lessons over three days. Next week, the Grade 2s will be at school, so I will teach ten lessons. This weekend I need to revise some of my lessons because what I did for online lessons will not work in the classroom. I hope things get better with time and I can better connect with the students.
I was apprehensive about the school opening on two points. First, will safety procedures be enforced to ensure that students and teachers are safe and the spread of COVID-19 is minimized? Second, will I be prepared to conduct lessons?
Several new rules and procedures were put into place but very little of it was explained to me until that last minute. I did my best to find out information on my own, and piece together what I could. The high-tech first defence employed at our school is walk through temperature scanners at the door. Students and teachers have their temperatures read before entering the school. If your temperature is too high then I presume you will be pulled aside and not permitted to attend school that day. So far I have been well within the acceptable range.
There are secondary temperature checks before lunch, hand sanitizer is well placed throughout the school, and everyone wears masks in the classrooms. Students are supposed to keep their distance throughout the day. Desks are spread out in the classroom, and students nor teachers are permitted to sit together in the cafeteria. One person per table is strictly enforced. There are posters throughout the school reminding students of the required safe distance from others.
Perhaps the biggest imposition on me personally is that students must stay in their desks throughout the lesson. This is especially burdensome in an English language class where pair and group work are important learning methods, and moving around the classroom is essential to facilitate conversation. I need to find creative ways to engage the students, without having them leave their desks.
I think these safety precautions and classroom restrictions are totally pointless. As soon as the bell rings, the students run out into the hallway and are within close proximity to each other. I saw boys roughhousing, arm-wrestling, running and chasing, and doing all the things you'd expect of middle school boys. The girls walk arm in arm and squish their faces together to make cute little poses. Some students remove their masks in the classroom until they are caught and corrected by the teacher. I am resigned to the fact that if any student has the coronavirus, it will quickly spread throughout the whole school population.
As for teaching, I couldn't sleep the night before my first lesson. I didn't know what classes would be like, and I was still unclear about some of the simple details like, should I bring my own utensils for lunch? And, what would the co-teacher actually do in the classroom? Importantly, I didn't know if my lessons were level-appropriate for my students. As you know, I had to plan all of these lessons without ever having met the students.
My first class was an utter disaster. Seriously. I went to the English room about 10 minutes early to set up the computer and TV. Just before I expected students to arrive, another teacher told me she needed the English room. This was very strange because I had a class scheduled there in a matter of minutes. Suddenly my co-teacher ran into the room and explained that lessons will not take place in the English room as previously planned but in the students' homeroom classroom.
This last-minute change had me frazzled from the beginning.
I arrived in the proper classroom and couldn't figure out how to hook up the laptop to the HDMI TV. The co-teacher didn't know either and went to find the technician. I was left fiddling with the computer and TV for a while, wondering whether or not to proceed with the lesson without any visuals. The class started nearly 10 minutes late and my lesson plan was shot to hell. When you lose 10 minutes of a 40 minute class period, it's hard to get back on track.
Students were quiet and non-participatory. So much awkward silence. No one volunteered to speak or answer any of my questions. With the face masks, I couldn't read their faces to know if they were understanding me, interested or confused. The co-teacher, trying to console me, said "it was the students first day back from online lessons, so they were not motivated." Defeated and demoralized, the class ended. It can only get better from here, right?
My next class was marginally better, but still seriously problematic. At least I was able to hook up the HDMI TV without issue, so this gave me some extra time to mingle with the students before the class. I decided that I needed to give the students some incentive to participate, so I assigned each row as a team. Every time someone from that team answered a question, that team would earn a point. The team with the most points at the end of class won stickers from Canada. Some students participated, but for many others, the stickers had no motivating effect.
I ended up running out of time in the lesson. I wasn't aware until my co-teacher informed me with about five minutes left, as I was scrambling to complete as much of the lesson as I could, that we had to stop the lesson early to take each student's temperature before lunch. I was about halfway through the lesson. It was a somewhat depressing but important lesson for me because it seems it doesn't matter how much of my lesson I complete. In fact, it doesn't seem like my lessons matter at all.
It was finally time for school lunch. The food wasn't great this week, and I had to eat while distancing from others, but it was a nice break from having entire classes of students awkwardly stare at me.
I had a few nice moments with the students, and mercifully, not all of my classes were terrible. A boy gave me a container of these UFO candies, which are sour little packets literally filled with pure sugar. The kid who gave the UFO candies now follows me around saying "UFO, UFO". I spend most of the day mainlining caffeine, eating sugar, and listening to upbeat music to get my energy up to face the wall of silence in my classroom. This is my fight song before I walk to class.
I had some momentum going at the end of Thursday and I thought things were improving after a very difficult start to my in-class teaching. I only had one class on Friday, but it was the last period of the afternoon. I guess the students, the boys especially, were pretty much done with it for the week so it was an incredibly difficult class. Even though I already taught this lesson once before, it was a struggle from start to finish. Many students were misbehaving and some were sleeping. Very few students took it seriously at all. The co-teacher did well in translating my instructions and controlling the class. It would have been even worse had she not been there.
I think I made a bad first impression with this class because I was encouraging them to sit down so we could start the lesson on time, but I must've misjudged the time because partway through the opening, the bell went off. I had started the class too early. Having stolen a few minutes of their break, the boys groaned and complained. What's worse, in two weeks I will have an open lesson with this particular class, and the principal and other teachers will observe. I picked the worst-behaved class to have visitors join us. Can't wait.
It was a crazy week and I only taught five lessons over three days. Next week, the Grade 2s will be at school, so I will teach ten lessons. This weekend I need to revise some of my lessons because what I did for online lessons will not work in the classroom. I hope things get better with time and I can better connect with the students.
Sunday, 24 May 2020
Top 10 Surprises So Far
To commemorate living and teaching in South Korea for three months, I thought I would compile a list of my top surprises so far. Here they are in no particular order:
1. What's Yours is Mine
I have a drawer in my desk at school that contains some office supplies, documents, and teaching materials. I lock my computer in it each night. My co-teacher goes into the drawer whenever she needs something, and no permission is sought. Another teacher plugged a USB drive into my work computer to download the previous teacher's materials for her own use. She also downloaded all of my files. I wouldn't say I'm upset by either of these examples. I'm just surprised at the communal nature of office life here. The teachers are collegial and help each other.
2. The 39-Year-Old Infant
Technically, by the Korean system of measuring age, I'm 41 years old, but that's not the point. Whatever age I am, I'm treated like an infant. It's nice, in a way, that I am well cared for, but the teaching staff here assume that I'm clueless about everything. I was once instructed on how to use the faucet, "You turn it this way for cold water and you turn it the other way for hot water." This is something that I can certainly accept because in some areas of life, like discerning the trash and recycling system, I am not a fully-functional adult. Some of my questions and concerns must sound comical to the Koreans.
3. PDA All Day
Compared to the Japanese, Koreans are a handsy people. There is a surprising amount of hand-holding and other public displays of affection between couples, including kissing. Even friends of the same gender will go arm in arm. Adults may hold hands with their grandparents while walking down the street. A teacher routinely grabs my arm and guides me across the street when we're walking together. It caught me off guard at first but it's nothing but a kind gesture.
4. Convenience Stores Aren't All That
While certainly convenient and widespread, the selection of ready-meals, fried foods, and sweet treats is definitely lacking behind their Japanese counterparts. In Japan, it's common to have a favourite among the chain of convenience stores and look forward to their particular offerings. I would often pick up delicious meals, rice balls or other treats at the Lawson's or FamilyMart in Japan. The food was always fresh and delicious. From what I've seen so far, there aren't many meals available, and hardly any fried food at the convenience stores here in Korea. I'm disappointed in my local 7-11, CU, and GS25 shops.
5. English in Korea
What Korea lacks in convenience foods, they more than make up for in English speaking proficiency. At least here in Busan, I am surviving and thriving without knowing Korean. Of course, not everyone is fluent in English, but most people I interact with are willing to give English a try, and more times than not they can communicate well enough to get the job done. I even had some nice small talk with the barista at the coffee shop today. And when staff at a shop or restaurant help me in English, it is clear that they are joyed to have spoken English successfully with a native-speaker. Also, from what I've heard from some of my student's online homework assignments, their English is surprisingly clear.
6. No Choice but to Adapt
I'm not a tech-savvy person. In fact, probably the most technologically advanced thing I've ever done is write this online blog. When it comes to teaching, I would feel comfortable with chalk and a chalkboard, but the expectations here in Korea are to use technology. This became a necessity when lessons were shifted online. Lessons are to be presented in PowerPoint or through the digital textbook, and online lessons are recorded with software called BandiCam, which I had never heard of before. Of course, all of the software at the school is in Korean. This forced me to carefully study the computer software and learn it in a step by step way. My tech fluency has jumped here in Korea, and I wouldn't have thought that was likely.
7. Hands Up
I witnessed my first instance of corporal punishment at the school. Apparently this student was due for some "correction" so the teacher had him hold his arms straight up in the air while she "explained" why his behaviour was out of line. This occurred even before in-person classes began. I estimate the rascal had his arms in the air for 3+ minutes, but he seemed no worse for the wear after his lesson.
8. The Office: Korean Edition
I am pleasantly surprised to report that the faculty office at my school is a very jovial and friendly workspace. There seems to be a fair amount of conversation as well as laughing and joking. There have been occasional announcements celebrating people's accomplishments such as promotions, passing professional tests, and personal news. Snacks and treats are regularly brought in and shared amongst the staff, and the principal has splurged for steamed pork buns on several occasions. During this time when students are not at school, staff go out for lunch together and I'm sometimes included in that. And the biggest contrast from teaching in Japan is that most teachers actually go home at the end of the school day. Rather than stay at the school at all hours of the evening and night, I'd say 90% of the teachers are on their way home shortly after 4:30pm. Of course, this may change as classes start, but it is refreshing to see reasonable work expectations for teachers.
9. Co-Teaching for One
The Korean model for English education is to utilize two teachers in the classroom, a Korean teacher of English and a native English speaker. Ideally, this should be an equal partnership with each teacher sharing the duties in the classroom and collaborating on the lesson plans. Open communication is crucial to ensure that teachers are on the same page and the students get the full benefit of having two teachers in their classes. Up to now, I have been fully responsible for the online lessons and it seems like I will also run the in-class lessons. There has been no collaboration as of yet and very little communication. I have only exchanged about five sentences with one co-teacher in three months, and not much more with the other teachers. At my visit school, I haven't even met 4 of the 5 teachers. As a result, I don't feel prepared for when the students return to school. I like having primary responsibility for planning and teaching, even if I don't feel ready, but I'm not sure how my co-teachers will participate in the lessons. I have been surprised by the so-called "co-teaching" up to this point, and I'm poised for many more surprises as in-class lessons begin.
10. COVID-19
Without a doubt, the coronavirus has been the most disruptive and unpredictable feature of my short time in Korea. Any conception I had of life in Korea before I arrived was certainly altered with the outbreak and the global pandemic. I was scheduled to start teaching on March 2nd but as of this writing in late-May, I have not taught a single class. Life has been novel but restricted. There have been so many ups and downs in such a short time, and I don't know if there are further disruptions to come. It has been a strange time to start a new job in Korea. Procedures and practices that the school had operated under for years have changed, and while I would like more support and explanation, it is difficult because everything has been upended for the Koreans themselves. They are figuring things out each day, as am I.
The first three months are behind me. What new surprises await in the upcoming months? We shall see.
1. What's Yours is Mine
I have a drawer in my desk at school that contains some office supplies, documents, and teaching materials. I lock my computer in it each night. My co-teacher goes into the drawer whenever she needs something, and no permission is sought. Another teacher plugged a USB drive into my work computer to download the previous teacher's materials for her own use. She also downloaded all of my files. I wouldn't say I'm upset by either of these examples. I'm just surprised at the communal nature of office life here. The teachers are collegial and help each other.
2. The 39-Year-Old Infant
Technically, by the Korean system of measuring age, I'm 41 years old, but that's not the point. Whatever age I am, I'm treated like an infant. It's nice, in a way, that I am well cared for, but the teaching staff here assume that I'm clueless about everything. I was once instructed on how to use the faucet, "You turn it this way for cold water and you turn it the other way for hot water." This is something that I can certainly accept because in some areas of life, like discerning the trash and recycling system, I am not a fully-functional adult. Some of my questions and concerns must sound comical to the Koreans.
3. PDA All Day
Compared to the Japanese, Koreans are a handsy people. There is a surprising amount of hand-holding and other public displays of affection between couples, including kissing. Even friends of the same gender will go arm in arm. Adults may hold hands with their grandparents while walking down the street. A teacher routinely grabs my arm and guides me across the street when we're walking together. It caught me off guard at first but it's nothing but a kind gesture.
4. Convenience Stores Aren't All That
While certainly convenient and widespread, the selection of ready-meals, fried foods, and sweet treats is definitely lacking behind their Japanese counterparts. In Japan, it's common to have a favourite among the chain of convenience stores and look forward to their particular offerings. I would often pick up delicious meals, rice balls or other treats at the Lawson's or FamilyMart in Japan. The food was always fresh and delicious. From what I've seen so far, there aren't many meals available, and hardly any fried food at the convenience stores here in Korea. I'm disappointed in my local 7-11, CU, and GS25 shops.
5. English in Korea
What Korea lacks in convenience foods, they more than make up for in English speaking proficiency. At least here in Busan, I am surviving and thriving without knowing Korean. Of course, not everyone is fluent in English, but most people I interact with are willing to give English a try, and more times than not they can communicate well enough to get the job done. I even had some nice small talk with the barista at the coffee shop today. And when staff at a shop or restaurant help me in English, it is clear that they are joyed to have spoken English successfully with a native-speaker. Also, from what I've heard from some of my student's online homework assignments, their English is surprisingly clear.
6. No Choice but to Adapt
I'm not a tech-savvy person. In fact, probably the most technologically advanced thing I've ever done is write this online blog. When it comes to teaching, I would feel comfortable with chalk and a chalkboard, but the expectations here in Korea are to use technology. This became a necessity when lessons were shifted online. Lessons are to be presented in PowerPoint or through the digital textbook, and online lessons are recorded with software called BandiCam, which I had never heard of before. Of course, all of the software at the school is in Korean. This forced me to carefully study the computer software and learn it in a step by step way. My tech fluency has jumped here in Korea, and I wouldn't have thought that was likely.
7. Hands Up
I witnessed my first instance of corporal punishment at the school. Apparently this student was due for some "correction" so the teacher had him hold his arms straight up in the air while she "explained" why his behaviour was out of line. This occurred even before in-person classes began. I estimate the rascal had his arms in the air for 3+ minutes, but he seemed no worse for the wear after his lesson.
8. The Office: Korean Edition
I am pleasantly surprised to report that the faculty office at my school is a very jovial and friendly workspace. There seems to be a fair amount of conversation as well as laughing and joking. There have been occasional announcements celebrating people's accomplishments such as promotions, passing professional tests, and personal news. Snacks and treats are regularly brought in and shared amongst the staff, and the principal has splurged for steamed pork buns on several occasions. During this time when students are not at school, staff go out for lunch together and I'm sometimes included in that. And the biggest contrast from teaching in Japan is that most teachers actually go home at the end of the school day. Rather than stay at the school at all hours of the evening and night, I'd say 90% of the teachers are on their way home shortly after 4:30pm. Of course, this may change as classes start, but it is refreshing to see reasonable work expectations for teachers.
9. Co-Teaching for One
The Korean model for English education is to utilize two teachers in the classroom, a Korean teacher of English and a native English speaker. Ideally, this should be an equal partnership with each teacher sharing the duties in the classroom and collaborating on the lesson plans. Open communication is crucial to ensure that teachers are on the same page and the students get the full benefit of having two teachers in their classes. Up to now, I have been fully responsible for the online lessons and it seems like I will also run the in-class lessons. There has been no collaboration as of yet and very little communication. I have only exchanged about five sentences with one co-teacher in three months, and not much more with the other teachers. At my visit school, I haven't even met 4 of the 5 teachers. As a result, I don't feel prepared for when the students return to school. I like having primary responsibility for planning and teaching, even if I don't feel ready, but I'm not sure how my co-teachers will participate in the lessons. I have been surprised by the so-called "co-teaching" up to this point, and I'm poised for many more surprises as in-class lessons begin.
10. COVID-19
Without a doubt, the coronavirus has been the most disruptive and unpredictable feature of my short time in Korea. Any conception I had of life in Korea before I arrived was certainly altered with the outbreak and the global pandemic. I was scheduled to start teaching on March 2nd but as of this writing in late-May, I have not taught a single class. Life has been novel but restricted. There have been so many ups and downs in such a short time, and I don't know if there are further disruptions to come. It has been a strange time to start a new job in Korea. Procedures and practices that the school had operated under for years have changed, and while I would like more support and explanation, it is difficult because everything has been upended for the Koreans themselves. They are figuring things out each day, as am I.
The first three months are behind me. What new surprises await in the upcoming months? We shall see.
Sunday, 17 May 2020
The Incredibly Bothersome Lightbulb
Certainly, on the face of it, a story about a burnt-out lightbulb isn't all that entertaining. It does, however, in my opinion, represent the struggle expatriates experience while living in a foreign country, especially those with limited language abilities. A burnt-out lightbulb can break a man.
When routine life is holding and everything is comfortable, it almost feels like you belong here, or that life is manageable or even easy. But the second that lightbulb sparked out I was immediately hit with the realization that this was going to disrupt my routine. You see, the one-room apartment is my sanctuary against all the strangeness and confusion outside of my door. In my apartment, I don't have to worry about the Korean language, or getting stared at, or being baffled by the food I receive at a restaurant. I don't even need to think about my school, the ridiculousness of working in an office as the only non-Korean speaker. And most of all, I can put the corona-virus out of my mind for a few hours, from the safety of my home.
I have four lights in my apartment; a light in the bathroom, one above the living quarters, a third above the kitchen sink, and a light above the entranceway, which is on a motion sensor. When I lose a light, it makes a difference. So, no matter how good I am at ignoring a problem, and I am really good at that, I could not ignore that burnt-out lightbulb, as much as I tried. Ten months until the end of my contract. I would need to deal with this, or live in a dark world.
Without a doubt, the incredibly bothersome lightbulb was a multi-day, multi-person project. But before I get into all that, let me tell you about my initial thoughts. Does the landlord replace the lightbulbs? Where can I buy a lightbulb? What kind of lightbulb is this? I've never seen one like this. How do I throw out or recycle the old lightbulb without getting fined or pissing off my neighbours?
I consulted with my co-teacher about the lightbulb. Something that would be solved so quickly back home requires a consultation here. How many world travellers does it take to change a lightbulb?
My co-teacher called the building office about the problem and learned that the landlord does not, in fact, have responsibility for changing lightbulbs. That task falls on each tenant, even if they are an incompetent foreigner. The tiny hope that someone else would solve this now faded away.
I took numerous photos of the lightbulb and socket and sent them to my co-teacher so we knew what we were dealing with. Further consultation with my co-teacher led to a solo mission for a new lightbulb at the dollar store, Daiso. I picked up any number of cheap household items at Daiso in Japan, and had already been to Daiso a few times in Korea. Buy a lightbulb? Yes, I can do that.
But before the solo mission, of course, we needed to send in the reconnaissance team. My co-teacher when to Daiso first, priced the lightbulb and took some pictures. I had my target. Why didn't she just buy the lightbulb while she was there?
I wandered about Daiso for 20 minutes before I had any clue where they kept the lightbulbs. It's not a big store. Even with my photos, it was a challenge. I had brought my old lightbulb on the advice of my co-teacher. I was to hand the bulb to a staff member and they would take care of the rest. Overkill, I thought. I can track down a lightbulb in a dollar store. I'm at least capable of that. I found the lightbulb shelf tucked away in the back of the store. They only had like four different kinds of lightbulbs for sale. Still, I was only 80% sure that I picked the correct one. Feeling adventurous, and also not wanting to have an awkward conversation with a staff member, I bought the bulb without seeking assistance in the store.
The moment of truth, part one. I came home from the store thinking this mission is finally over. Standing precariously on my chair, I plug in the light. Climbed down and flipped the light switch. Let there be light. No. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Expecting news of our glorious success, first thing the next morning I disappointed my co-teacher with word of our failure. The annoying lightbulb has become incredibly bothersome.
Koreans are nothing if not systematic. I was sent back to Daiso to test the lightbulb. Apparently, in the lighting section, there is an outlet to test your lightbulbs before purchase, and I assume, after purchase, as what was necessary in my case.
Naturally, I couldn't just go back to Daiso myself to test the lightbulb. My co-teacher called in advance to verify that customers can test lightbulbs there, and she also gave them a polite heads up that a "foreigner" would be coming to their store with a lightbulb. Daiso said that they would be ready. I suppose there are some English teachers in Korea that don't have this kind of support. I wonder how they manage their home lighting needs?
Before I entered the store, I typed "test this lightbulb" into the Google translate app on my phone. I showed the Korean translation to the staff, and they walked me to the lightbulb section, "Please follow me", she said in English. Moment of truth, part two. She plugged in the bulb, and it lit up like..., like..., like... a lightbulb.
It was clear that there was something beyond the bulb at issue, so my co-teacher recruited another person to help. How many people does it take to change a lightbulb in Korea?
Our school has a handyman whom I often see in the halls. I always say Anneyong-haseyo (good morning) and he always replies NNNNEEEEEEEEE. I think that means "yes" or something like that. One afternoon, the three of us - handyman, co-teacher, and myself - walk over to my apartment. Basically, he just plugged in the lightbulb to see if it worked, and to see if I'm an idiot. Moment of truth, part three. No, the lightbulb didn't work for him either. The case needed to be replaced and rewired. He would have to buy a part and try again later.
Later that week, my co-teacher said we will all return to my apartment that afternoon to fix the light. The day came and went, as did the next day, without a word from my co-teacher about the light. I had no idea what was going on. Why the delay? Why the silence?
One day sometime later, I received an online message from my co-teacher, which is weird in itself because we sit next to each other, saying something to the effect of "Strictly speaking, it's not the handyman's job to fix your light. Usually, Korean people do their own repairs, but since you are a foreigner, the school will buy the supplies and he will do it for you. You should buy a bottle of orange juice or some drink to give to him. It will show that you are warm-hearted."
Now, I was left wondering, had they not fixed my light all these days because I wasn't grateful enough? Was I inconveniencing the handyman? All these thoughts in my head because I couldn't understand what was going on or what anyone was saying. I was exasperated.
One afternoon, randomly, I was told that the handyman will fix the light now. We rush over to the apartment and I was sure to show as much gratitude as possible in both English and Korean "Kamsahamnida" (thank you!). The handyman took a few minutes to fix the light. It worked! I offered him the drink, and he refused, "No." "No?" "No." "Ok". My co-teacher cut in to explain that it was a gift because I was thankful for his help. He accepted the drink, and once again I had light in my apartment.
What did I learn from all of this? That nothing is easy as a foreigner in Korea, especially if you can't speak the language. The smallest thing, which would be routine back home, is a stressful project that requires lots of help and patience. I'm thankful for the people who take an interest in my well-being. Stress is inevitable, especially when several of these small challenges come at the same time. With perseverance, you can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
When routine life is holding and everything is comfortable, it almost feels like you belong here, or that life is manageable or even easy. But the second that lightbulb sparked out I was immediately hit with the realization that this was going to disrupt my routine. You see, the one-room apartment is my sanctuary against all the strangeness and confusion outside of my door. In my apartment, I don't have to worry about the Korean language, or getting stared at, or being baffled by the food I receive at a restaurant. I don't even need to think about my school, the ridiculousness of working in an office as the only non-Korean speaker. And most of all, I can put the corona-virus out of my mind for a few hours, from the safety of my home.
I have four lights in my apartment; a light in the bathroom, one above the living quarters, a third above the kitchen sink, and a light above the entranceway, which is on a motion sensor. When I lose a light, it makes a difference. So, no matter how good I am at ignoring a problem, and I am really good at that, I could not ignore that burnt-out lightbulb, as much as I tried. Ten months until the end of my contract. I would need to deal with this, or live in a dark world.
Without a doubt, the incredibly bothersome lightbulb was a multi-day, multi-person project. But before I get into all that, let me tell you about my initial thoughts. Does the landlord replace the lightbulbs? Where can I buy a lightbulb? What kind of lightbulb is this? I've never seen one like this. How do I throw out or recycle the old lightbulb without getting fined or pissing off my neighbours?
I consulted with my co-teacher about the lightbulb. Something that would be solved so quickly back home requires a consultation here. How many world travellers does it take to change a lightbulb?
My co-teacher called the building office about the problem and learned that the landlord does not, in fact, have responsibility for changing lightbulbs. That task falls on each tenant, even if they are an incompetent foreigner. The tiny hope that someone else would solve this now faded away.
I took numerous photos of the lightbulb and socket and sent them to my co-teacher so we knew what we were dealing with. Further consultation with my co-teacher led to a solo mission for a new lightbulb at the dollar store, Daiso. I picked up any number of cheap household items at Daiso in Japan, and had already been to Daiso a few times in Korea. Buy a lightbulb? Yes, I can do that.
I wandered about Daiso for 20 minutes before I had any clue where they kept the lightbulbs. It's not a big store. Even with my photos, it was a challenge. I had brought my old lightbulb on the advice of my co-teacher. I was to hand the bulb to a staff member and they would take care of the rest. Overkill, I thought. I can track down a lightbulb in a dollar store. I'm at least capable of that. I found the lightbulb shelf tucked away in the back of the store. They only had like four different kinds of lightbulbs for sale. Still, I was only 80% sure that I picked the correct one. Feeling adventurous, and also not wanting to have an awkward conversation with a staff member, I bought the bulb without seeking assistance in the store.
The moment of truth, part one. I came home from the store thinking this mission is finally over. Standing precariously on my chair, I plug in the light. Climbed down and flipped the light switch. Let there be light. No. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Expecting news of our glorious success, first thing the next morning I disappointed my co-teacher with word of our failure. The annoying lightbulb has become incredibly bothersome.
Koreans are nothing if not systematic. I was sent back to Daiso to test the lightbulb. Apparently, in the lighting section, there is an outlet to test your lightbulbs before purchase, and I assume, after purchase, as what was necessary in my case.
Naturally, I couldn't just go back to Daiso myself to test the lightbulb. My co-teacher called in advance to verify that customers can test lightbulbs there, and she also gave them a polite heads up that a "foreigner" would be coming to their store with a lightbulb. Daiso said that they would be ready. I suppose there are some English teachers in Korea that don't have this kind of support. I wonder how they manage their home lighting needs?
Before I entered the store, I typed "test this lightbulb" into the Google translate app on my phone. I showed the Korean translation to the staff, and they walked me to the lightbulb section, "Please follow me", she said in English. Moment of truth, part two. She plugged in the bulb, and it lit up like..., like..., like... a lightbulb.
It was clear that there was something beyond the bulb at issue, so my co-teacher recruited another person to help. How many people does it take to change a lightbulb in Korea?
Our school has a handyman whom I often see in the halls. I always say Anneyong-haseyo (good morning) and he always replies NNNNEEEEEEEEE. I think that means "yes" or something like that. One afternoon, the three of us - handyman, co-teacher, and myself - walk over to my apartment. Basically, he just plugged in the lightbulb to see if it worked, and to see if I'm an idiot. Moment of truth, part three. No, the lightbulb didn't work for him either. The case needed to be replaced and rewired. He would have to buy a part and try again later.
Later that week, my co-teacher said we will all return to my apartment that afternoon to fix the light. The day came and went, as did the next day, without a word from my co-teacher about the light. I had no idea what was going on. Why the delay? Why the silence?
One day sometime later, I received an online message from my co-teacher, which is weird in itself because we sit next to each other, saying something to the effect of "Strictly speaking, it's not the handyman's job to fix your light. Usually, Korean people do their own repairs, but since you are a foreigner, the school will buy the supplies and he will do it for you. You should buy a bottle of orange juice or some drink to give to him. It will show that you are warm-hearted."
Now, I was left wondering, had they not fixed my light all these days because I wasn't grateful enough? Was I inconveniencing the handyman? All these thoughts in my head because I couldn't understand what was going on or what anyone was saying. I was exasperated.
One afternoon, randomly, I was told that the handyman will fix the light now. We rush over to the apartment and I was sure to show as much gratitude as possible in both English and Korean "Kamsahamnida" (thank you!). The handyman took a few minutes to fix the light. It worked! I offered him the drink, and he refused, "No." "No?" "No." "Ok". My co-teacher cut in to explain that it was a gift because I was thankful for his help. He accepted the drink, and once again I had light in my apartment.
What did I learn from all of this? That nothing is easy as a foreigner in Korea, especially if you can't speak the language. The smallest thing, which would be routine back home, is a stressful project that requires lots of help and patience. I'm thankful for the people who take an interest in my well-being. Stress is inevitable, especially when several of these small challenges come at the same time. With perseverance, you can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)