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!"

Discplining Students

Maintaining classroom discipline in schools in Korea is very different than back home. There have been a couple of incidents that I think are illustrative of the disciplinary style here and will be of interest to readers in other countries.

At my boys' middle school, it's always a challenge to keep students on task and from disrupting the lesson. One day last week, I told the students in this first-grade class that they needed their textbooks, notebooks, and a pencil for the lesson. The Korean teacher repeated the instructions so all the students could understand.

One boy was stalling and wasting time at his cubby at the back of the classroom. The teacher admonished him because he was wasting time and we needed to start the lesson. There was some back and forth between the teacher and student, and I could tell by the tone the student was using that he was talking back and arguing with the teacher. He finally found his books and proceed to toss them across the room towards his desk. The books flopped onto the floor.

The teacher called him out to the hallway, effectively removing him from the classroom. I had never witnessed this before from the teacher. It is very rare for teachers here since they subscribe to the interpretation of law that students "cannot be denied their education", therefore removing them from the class is not normally permitted.

However, on this occasion, the disrespect had crossed a line and the teacher took the student to the faculty office. She asked me to proceed with the class, and I didn't see her until the class was about to end. The rude boy did not return to class at all. 

Later, the teacher asked me if I was surprised to see her so angry since she has never shown anger like that in class before. I told her to get even angrier in the future if she wanted. Sometimes the kids push things too far. But she's not likely to do that in the future. She said it "wouldn't be pretty."

The next day, the offending student is at the teacher's desk bright and early to receive his punishment. And this punishment was truly novel. He had to stand in the faculty office holding a sign, written in Korean, that he promises to respect teachers and the school rules and not misbehave any more. He stood there before classes, had to return for some of his breaks and part of the lunch hour. It combined embarrassment, which I'm not sure he felt, plus the pain of missing his free time at school. The teacher told me later that the parents had signed off on this punishment. Knowing this student, I highly doubt that this or any punishment will be effective, but it's nice to see some measure of discipline for poor behaviour.

Imagine my surprise when I return to the school one week later and the student is still standing with the sign in the faculty office! How long is this punishment? I think the other teachers took one look at that kid and thought, "yes, now that's a punishment!" because by the time lunch rolls around, there are three other kids standing there with their respective signs announcing to the school the wrongs that they've committed and how they'll follow the rules from now on. One student held a sign about how he will always wear his mask from now on.

All the teachers at my boys' middle school have trouble with class 3-1. They're a rowdy bunch, rarely play attention or participate, and only quiet down when they decide to take a nap at their desks. It was clear that the Korean teacher was tired of dealing with them, so she announced to me that she wasn't going to wake up the sleepers this week. She'd just let them sleep during my Halloween lesson. It was easier for everyone. Pick your battles.

Finally, at the same school, there was a fight amongst two boys in grade 1. I wasn't there to witness it, but I learned of it when I saw a student in my class with ugly looking, bloody scratches on his throat and a small cut on his face. Yet, strangely, he was in a good mood and participating in the class much more than usual. That is, he never participates but now he seemed to be having fun, if not goofing around in the class.

When class ended, I brought it to the attention of the Korean teacher. She inquired about the student's injuries and told me later about the fight. Apparently, it was resolved by the other teachers. Resolved, at least, in a way that had a scratched-up, bloody student in my class rather than sent home. 

I'll never understand how they do things here.

Making Soap

One day without warning, although I'm sure it had been planned months in advance, the teachers at my school had a professional development activity in the late afternoon after the students had left for the day. We gathered in the science room to make soap.

Earlier in the year, an outside instructor came to the school to teach us how to make natural shampoo. She returned last week for a session on soap making. It was much the same process as before. Several bottles of various ingredients were spread out on the tables with a digital scale. We were to follow the directions by adding a certain amount of each ingredient to our cup, stirring, and repeating until all the ingredients had been added, and the combination had formed soap.

There were several types of soap that we could choose from, but being that the session was fully in Korean, I didn't really understand what was going on nor was I that interested in making soap. I ended up with two kinds of soap, the first was a barely-based exfoliating soap. The second was an orange-coloured paprika soap made with tomatoes, lemons and other spices that apparently moisturize the skin. I chose that soap because the powder looked like the orange powder that you add to ramen. All I really understood of the instructor's presentation was "essential oils". 

 

 

Sitting at my table of teachers was a male gym teacher. Once he realized what this session was all about, he left just before the session started and did not return. Luckily, at my table sat the new Korean English teacher and some other younger teachers, so they were able to explain everything to me in English. I appreciate their efforts because I would have been lost without them.

The new Korean English teacher was oddly pushy. For example, we had to add ingredients into the cup on the scale in precise measurements. Say we required 1.0 gram of a certain substance. I would drop a little in the cup, and it read 0.2 grams on the scale. Then I would add a little more, and it read 0.6 grams. She then grabbed the ingredients away from me and finished adding the substance herself while I sat and watched. This was repeated for every substance. At one point, apparently, I wasn't stirring my soap mixture properly, so she took it away from me and did it herself.

 

 

When we were ultimately finished, she again took the lead by putting my soap containers in the provided plastic bag. I guess she assumed I couldn't handle such a task.

I haven't used the soap yet as it's just sitting on my counter, but I'll give it a try and see if the whole thing was worth it.

I complain about these sessions because they are awkward and, at times, seem pointless. But with the pandemic cancelling many of the cultural activities that I would have participated in, I am thankful that the school offers these opportunities for learning and connecting with my colleagues away from the pressures of the classroom.

Contract Renewal Decision

While I was sick last week, my co-teacher was regularly checking up on me through text messages. She also noted that I needed to make a decision on whether or not I wanted to renew my contract for another year at the school. I was quite sick, yet she messaged me twice about my contract renewal decision, so I figured it was urgent. I asked her when I needed to make my decision, and she said October 15th. Thankfully, I didn't need to decide on my future while I was sick in bed. I had another week to think about it.

What should normally happen with contract renewals is that I should first receive a performance review, ideally with constructive feedback and a meeting with the school principal who decides whether or not to offer another contract. As with last year, I was not given a performance review and did not meet with the principal. I have never received any formal feedback. I take it as a good sign that the contract renewal is a mere formality because if I wasn't teaching well, I wouldn't've been offered a renewal. Yet, I feel it is the employer's obligation to provided performance feedback. And I would like to improve as a teacher, so the lack of feedback is disappointing. At worst, it indicates that what I do at school doesn't really matter. I'm just filling the position of native teacher.

The decision to renew or not is difficult. I am good at this job, and after nearly two years, it has never been easier. I have a good relationship with the students. My lessons have a better flow and are more fun than when I first started. The workload is manageable, if not tiring. 

There are still many issues with co-teaching and the annoying things that my co-teachers do in the classroom. It was very frustrating at first to have teachers interfere with my lesson after making zero effort to help me plan the lesson or even instruct me on what they wanted in the lesson. Yet, I am used to all of that now and it doesn't bother me as much because I have adapted to the situation.

After my first year, I chose to stay in Korea for a second year mainly because the pandemic was still raging. It would have been very difficult to find another job, especially in Canada where there were many social distancing restrictions. Korea was relatively safe, but travel in the country and surrounding region was not possible. As a result, I spent my second year concentrating on my work and staying close to home, visiting the same cafes and restaurants, and doing very little sightseeing. In that way, it has been disappointing and I have not had the experience I envisioned when I first decided to come to Korea.

Still, I have decided that two years will be enough, for now. I will not renew my contract. I don't know what I'll do next or where I'll go, but I know for sure that I will not continue with this job.

I informed my co-teacher of my decision and it was very awkward because before I could finish my sentence, she got very happy and said "you're staying?!". I had to tell her, no, I decided not to renew. It was uncomfortable, but I'm happy the decision is official. I haven't told anyone else about deciding not to renew, but I'm sure the other teachers and students will find out in due course.

I think the reason I decided not to renew is largely influenced by the pandemic. I have not been able to travel home to see my family or visit other interesting places. If I had the chance to go home during the two years, perhaps I would stay here longer. Also, in terms of the job, two years is more than enough to get the full experience. Much of school life is now being repeated, including the lessons that I teach.

I plan to enjoy my remaining months in South Korea and slowly look for my next opportunity. COVID-19 numbers are slightly down in Korea with vaccination rates very high. With any luck, I'll be able to do something fun during my winter vacation, before my contract expires.