Random thoughts

Right now I'm in my apartment, but I began this blog entry on the laptop in a classroom while my students silently grunted and sweated their way through the final exam. In Korea, universities follow an unusual grading method that amounts to a kind of quota system. A certain percentage of students are expected to receive A's, a certain percentage of students are expected to receive B's, and so on. Following the head teacher's advice, I intentionally made the exam difficult so every single student doesn't pass with an A. I've also done it to determine who's actually been listening to me the last few weeks. In a way it feels like revenge. Ha ha.

This has been a good semester, but I'm exhausted from this semester. People often ask me to compare my current job to my previous job at the private institution. The students represent the biggest difference. At the private institution, students paid upwards of $100 a month to take intensive English courses, so there was a certain amount of focus and dedication to study. However, many university students, outside of those majoring in Elementary English Education, didn't come here to study English. The courses that I teach here are required courses. In some cases, students have ended up in my class as a result of failing some kind of English exam. Further complicating the situation is the fact that most of my students are freshmen who, after a lifetime of being worked to death in schools and private institutions, are experiencing their first true taste of freedom. The result of this is that even some of the most intelligent and gifted students are unmotivated and, in some cases, behave like children in the classroom. This description doesn't represent the majority of students here, but it remains a significant enough percentage to make me feel culture shocked all over again. For me, teaching here has amounted to a crash course in classroom management. At times, it feels more like a high school than a university, and at times I've had to be stricter than I would like. I've actually lost my temper a few times, although I'm careful never to yell at students. Although I find that I can get their attention quickly with a surprise quiz or a speaking activity in which I randomly call on students (usually the ones that chat with their friends while I'm lecturing).

I mentioned in a recent post that many students here speak much less English than I'm used to. On a good day, this poses a unique challenge and even affords me a few opportunities to practice my Korean. On a bad day, I feel helpless and lonely and wonder what in the world I'm doing here. Ha ha.

Classroom management and administrative issues aside (I'm not looking forward to grading 120 students next week), I've enjoyed what I do here. At this university there isn't much oversight from the administration other than the dreaded teacher evaluation forms that students fill out, which apparently just can't be escaped in Korea. There is definitely less pressure in the classroom here, and I have a lot more freedom to do what I want. I have several Korean friends and former students who have given me invaluable insight into the Korean student's perspective in an English classroom. They have also helped me adapt some of my lessons to the Korean language and culture. This includes, but is not limited to, translating selected materials for students.

I've had a little time to get to know some students here, among them Hwang Sang-Yoon, not to be confused with my good friend Shin Sang-Yoon. Mr. Hwang and I have gone jogging together a few times including this morning. He's a much better runner than I am, which is actually good for me. It's cool to have someone who's as crazy to jog in this weather as I am. I've also visited his church across town. Mr. Hwang is a theology major, and strikes me as one of the more solid Christians I've met in a while. He being 29 years old and me being 35, I relate to him to a little better than the typical 18-year-old college kid who's never lived away from home. However, Mr. Hwang speaks so little English that generally I have to communicate with him in Korean. He's invited me to visit his hometown over the winter vacation. This will be an opportunity for further immersion in a culture I feel I'm just beginning to discover.


When I first arrived in Korea, I underestimated the linguistic and psychological difficulty that English causes many Koreans. While I believe that anyone can master a foreign language with enough diligence and practice, English and Korean are as different as two different languages can get. I have met a few foreigners who have mastered Korean and a few Koreans who have mastered English, but these are definitely the exception to the norm. In many of those cases the foreigners have done intensive study and the Koreans have lived abroad. I know many Koreans who have great vocabulary skills and can have an extended conversation in English about any topic but still struggle with correct grammar or pronunciation or both. It's not uncommon for Korean friends to ask me something along the lines of: "How is my English? How would you rate me?" Until recently, Korea's educational system has focused solely on rote memorization of words and grammar rules in classes taught by Korean teachers whose own English ability or pronunciation are sometimes substandard. What this all means is that many Koreans who have "studied" English upwards of 10 years can barely have a conversation with a native English teacher and are often fearful of the opportunity. Some Koreans are so locked into a certain way of learning that they actually don't remember error corrections. Korean students aren't stupid, and I've seen people make significant progress, but these are formidable obstacles. In spite of my difficulties with the Korean language, some Koreans have commented that I've acquired the correct pronunciations of their native language much more quickly than they've done with English.

On a few occasions I've gone to a restaurant or cafe with a Korean friend who brought along another Korean friend, and the third person wouldn't address me in English, or would make minimal conversation with me. This is sometimes due to a lack of English-speaking ability, but sometimes it's due to a lack of confidence. In some cases the third person heard about me previously from his or her friend and, anxious to meet the foreigner, asked to be invited--then would clam up or just chat with the inviting person in Korean. I don't think I'm the only foreigner who has experienced this, and it happens more often than it should.

Of course, I wouldn't even bother to mention Korea's educational system if so many Koreans didn't complain bitterly to me about it. At my previous job, I would often tell students: "You're doing fine, you speak well, don't worry about it." It took me almost a year to realize that though my words were well meant, I was actually trivializing a years-long struggle.

On a very small scale, I've experienced a similar frustration with my own study of Korean. I've studied on and off for roughly a year and a half. I can have small conversations in Korean and there are many grammatical concepts and sentence structures with which I've become much more comfortable. I've tried to study and practice a little more aggressively the last few weeks, and I'm a little bit happier with my progress. However, by and large I don't think my Korean ability reflects the amount of time I've spent here. I've often chided Korean students for comparing themselves to one another, but the truth is that it's almost disheartening to me to meet other foreigners who have made much more rapid progress than I have in the same amount of time or less. Many Koreans have complimented on me how well I'm doing when I speak. Sometimes this strikes me as superficial, because when a foreigner in Korea orders food or introducing himself in Korean, I think most of us can agree that it is a rare and unusual sight. Other times I believe the comments are genuine, particularly when they come from those Koreans whom I've had time to get to know and talk with. I do appreciate the progress I've made and I don't think all of my work has been in vain. I have a handful of Korean friends who support me and take my study as seriously as I do; sometimes more so. I tend to be a little self-critical and it upsets me that I'm not closer to my goals. Linguist Steve Kaufmann rejects the idea that language acquisition is affected by a person's age and I agree with this, although I also know that some people are a little more gifted than others. But hard work ultimately beats out talent, and I always try to let other people's progress inspire me.

Namseong is a very different area than Shinchon. It's a little more local. I'd like to say "rural," but that wouldn't be correct because it's not the country. However, it's a little less Western and there are fewer foreigners here. That means that fewer people speak English here, which has afforded me a few more opportunities to practice my Korean. I've also found people here to be quite kind; this is the case with most Koreans anyway, but this area is a little bit different. It's not always exciting, but it's very likeable. I enjoy greeting the familiar people at the local restaurant, supermarket and bakery. More often than not, there's a significant language barrier, but smiles are universal.

That said, I'm still quite attached to the Shinchon/Hongdae area, and I return there at least twice a week to meet friends for dinner or language exchange. Monday night Do-Jin and I met in Shinchon to brave the cold and go jogging by the Han River. It was the first time we've run together since last winter. Our run wasn't over the top but it was decent, and the weather didn't kill our momentum. Today I met Chang-Woo in Hongdae to go to one of my favorite cafes and study Korean. I actually thought of calling Wan-Ryeol to see if he wants to meet in Hongdae tomorrow night to go jogging. I could probably do this kind of stuff every day and not get tired of it.


Koreans often ask personal questions. The most common I've gotten are: Are you married? How old are you? Do you have a girlfriend? What do you think about Koreans? How about a Korean girlfriend? What do you think of my English skill? Does your other Korean friend speak better than me? I generally don't mind them, but sometimes they become annoying. My favorite response to some of these questions has become: "Why do you ask?" This sometimes throws the other person for a loop, as they obviously don't expect that kind of answer. Last weekend Kyoung-Ha and I went to the Mongchontoseong/Olympic Park area (as we've made a habit of doing the last couple of months) to eat dinner at Outback Steakhouse and then to do some language exchange over coffee at Starbucks. This time he invited one of his friends, a grad student in political science. His English was quite limited, but he seemed very excited to meet me. Having already talked about the situations in which the third Korean freezes up and can't talk to me, I was impressed with his repeated attempts to make conversation with me before defaulting into Korean and asking Kyoung-Ha to interpret for him. He asked me some pointed questions about my opinion on the Japan-Korea conflict and other political topics. In Korea I generally don't discuss these kinds of topics with people I don't know well, and I avoided giving him many straight answers. He was passionate about some of those topics despite a disarming smile. At the end of dinner, he made a comment about my neutrality; actually he compared it to walking a tightrope. Which I thought was really funny.