Connecting
Yesterday I had a semi-formal meeting with the CEO of my school in Kangnam. It turned out to be relatively painless, and she and another administrator seemed very impressed at my interest in learning Korean. Afterward I stopped by the recruting director's office to say hi. He asked me how my teaching experience was so far and I told him: "Pretty good." His response: "Pretty good? Not fantastic?"
The reality is that my first few days here have represented a steep learning curve. Fortunately Monday and Tuesday are vacation days, and I'm looking forward to getting caught up on the administrative end. I am also learning to get more sleep. My good friend Cesar C. in New York, who once taught ESL at an Asian refugee camp, got on me in an e-mail this week about my sleeping habits. Those of you who know me may chuckle when you read this or shake your head, or both.
In spite of the learning curve, I seem to have connected fairly well with my students, which was one of the most important things to me. With a couple of exceptions, I've had very positive experiences with my students, much more so than other teachers I've heard about. I think my appearance and background definitely work in my favor. Koreans are star struck when I tell them I'm from New York City. They are also amazed when I tell them I don't play basketball. They are even more amazed when I tell them I don't drink. Drinking is a big thing in Korea. I think in a general sense, the students find me somewhat intriguing. A couple of students have invited me to lunch or dinner. In turn, I have started to invite students out for additional English tutoring, language exhange or other activities. I hope I don't get in over me head as I begin to do this.
Some of my experiences have been quite humorous. My favorite from this week occurred in a lower-level class when a very sincere student asked me: "Teacher, you don't drink at all?" No, I don't, I told him. He then pointed to my hand and, referring to my skin color, said to me in so much broken English that he thought that all people like me drank alcohol. He then commented how "gentle" I was.
Though the environment at my school is much more socially progressive than I thought it would be, Koreans' contact with outsiders remains limited and so stereotypes abound. I didn't travel here with an agenda to change the world, but I think I have turned a number of stereotypes and perceptions upside down. A student asked me this morning if I carried a gun in New York, presuming New York to be an extremely dangerous place. I explained to her and the rest of the class that people outside of New York view New York as a very dangerous place the same way that people outside of Korea view Korea as a very dangerous place. South Koreans generally do not worry about what's happening in the north, and most New Yorkers, though jittery over the threat of terrorism, don't obsess too much over their personal safety from day to day. It's very gratifying to explain a concept to students and watch their eyes light up as if to say, "Oh yeah, that makes sense."
I teach approximately 50 students a day, which represent seven class sessions and three curriculums. This has proved convenient, as I can do a lesson with one class and then improve upon that lesson in the next class following the same curriculum.
I've also become much more comfortable with speaking in front of the classes. When I'm forced to improvise a lesson, no one seems to notice. I've also learned not to fear the "silent times" when students seem quiet and unresponsive. This occurs most often with the lower-level students, and reflects the influence of a culture in which excessive speaking is viewed as insubordination. After pairing them up for discussion and conversation, it's not too hard to get them talking. And I have been surprised at how openly my students will discuss politics, economics, stereotypes, relationships, parental pressure, and the things they dislike about their own country.
I turn 34 on Saturday, and today one of my classes surprised me with a birthday cake and a box of cookies. I've been asked my age a few times and people are surprised when I tell them I'm 33 (or 34 in Korean age). I would think that the prominent gray hairs in my goatee would give me away, but apparently they don't. That's pretty cool.
A couple of giggly adolescent students have not been very shy in showing their infatuation with me. One particularly giggly student found me "cute." I find this sort of thing simultaneously flattering and unnerving.
The reality is that my first few days here have represented a steep learning curve. Fortunately Monday and Tuesday are vacation days, and I'm looking forward to getting caught up on the administrative end. I am also learning to get more sleep. My good friend Cesar C. in New York, who once taught ESL at an Asian refugee camp, got on me in an e-mail this week about my sleeping habits. Those of you who know me may chuckle when you read this or shake your head, or both.
In spite of the learning curve, I seem to have connected fairly well with my students, which was one of the most important things to me. With a couple of exceptions, I've had very positive experiences with my students, much more so than other teachers I've heard about. I think my appearance and background definitely work in my favor. Koreans are star struck when I tell them I'm from New York City. They are also amazed when I tell them I don't play basketball. They are even more amazed when I tell them I don't drink. Drinking is a big thing in Korea. I think in a general sense, the students find me somewhat intriguing. A couple of students have invited me to lunch or dinner. In turn, I have started to invite students out for additional English tutoring, language exhange or other activities. I hope I don't get in over me head as I begin to do this.
Some of my experiences have been quite humorous. My favorite from this week occurred in a lower-level class when a very sincere student asked me: "Teacher, you don't drink at all?" No, I don't, I told him. He then pointed to my hand and, referring to my skin color, said to me in so much broken English that he thought that all people like me drank alcohol. He then commented how "gentle" I was.
Though the environment at my school is much more socially progressive than I thought it would be, Koreans' contact with outsiders remains limited and so stereotypes abound. I didn't travel here with an agenda to change the world, but I think I have turned a number of stereotypes and perceptions upside down. A student asked me this morning if I carried a gun in New York, presuming New York to be an extremely dangerous place. I explained to her and the rest of the class that people outside of New York view New York as a very dangerous place the same way that people outside of Korea view Korea as a very dangerous place. South Koreans generally do not worry about what's happening in the north, and most New Yorkers, though jittery over the threat of terrorism, don't obsess too much over their personal safety from day to day. It's very gratifying to explain a concept to students and watch their eyes light up as if to say, "Oh yeah, that makes sense."
I teach approximately 50 students a day, which represent seven class sessions and three curriculums. This has proved convenient, as I can do a lesson with one class and then improve upon that lesson in the next class following the same curriculum.
I've also become much more comfortable with speaking in front of the classes. When I'm forced to improvise a lesson, no one seems to notice. I've also learned not to fear the "silent times" when students seem quiet and unresponsive. This occurs most often with the lower-level students, and reflects the influence of a culture in which excessive speaking is viewed as insubordination. After pairing them up for discussion and conversation, it's not too hard to get them talking. And I have been surprised at how openly my students will discuss politics, economics, stereotypes, relationships, parental pressure, and the things they dislike about their own country.
I turn 34 on Saturday, and today one of my classes surprised me with a birthday cake and a box of cookies. I've been asked my age a few times and people are surprised when I tell them I'm 33 (or 34 in Korean age). I would think that the prominent gray hairs in my goatee would give me away, but apparently they don't. That's pretty cool.
A couple of giggly adolescent students have not been very shy in showing their infatuation with me. One particularly giggly student found me "cute." I find this sort of thing simultaneously flattering and unnerving.
posted by Marc Hogi at
1:21 PM
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