Schadenfreude (and the World Cup)

I haven't written much about the World Cup -- nothing since the time my entire school gathered in the auditorium to watch Korea vs. Russia -- and this is because I'm not really following the games. Facebook and a few blogs I follow have kept me in the loop enough to satisfy my curiosity. This morning, though, when my news feed exploded with status updates and funny pictures related to the Brazil vs. Germany game, I thought it would be worth checking out in more detail.

That's how I found out that the gods of international soccer, Brazil, sustained a record-breaking, mind-blowing 7-1 loss to Germany in the semi-final match. This game was on their home turf, and there were tens of thousands of fans present, hundreds of thousands more watching on television, as the team failed spectacularly again and again and again.

Photos of Brazil's soccer team looking agonized and desolate, as well as photos of angry, crying, screaming fans have gone viral. In a moment of inspiration, I made a last-minute addition to my afternoon lesson and taught my third years about schadenfreude.

"It's a German word," I said, "so it's appropriate that we are learning it today."

I looked up the Korean definition; there's no translation, just an explanation. "남의 불행에 대해 갖는 쾌감": "pleasure derived from other people's misfortune."

HS was very pleased to learn this. He said that he experiences schadenfreude quite often. We then took a break to watch some "epic fail" videos.

The actual point of bringing up the World Cup game was to remind the students how to correctly talk about winning and losing. It's kind of complex in English (why "A lost to B" but not "B won to A"?), and then there's all the slang we use to refer to victory and defeat. "What happened at the World Cup today?" I asked my students. Their using-what-they'd-just-learned-replies:

"Germany kicked Brazil's butt."

"Germany schooled Brazil."

"Brazil blew it."

"Germany steamrollered Brazil."

"Germany owned Brazil."

"Brazil was a hot mess."

"Brazil got creamed."

"Germany won."

And because we all had a good laugh at this, well... schadenfreude!

This is me capitalizing on a trending topic and in-group humor to gain approval on social media. Also, I wanted to show the link to the Avenue Q song without actually linking to it, because it is rather inappropriate! I did not play it for my students. But we did listen to Sam Smith, Pentatonix, The Piano Guys, and Sam Tsui as part of a lesson on music!

P.S. I also learned a bit of Korean from discussing the game with other teachers at my school. To lose is 지다 (jida), but to lose humiliatingly, as Brazil did, is 깨지다 (ggaejida), which can also mean to break or shatter. 실패하다 (silpaehada) means to fail, but it was explained that this is a failure of something you prepared for, such as an exam. The other two verbs are for failing in a competition. And the Korean equivalent of "Brazil was crushed by Germany"? 브라질이 독일한테 떡 됬다. Brazil became rice cake against Germany. Why rice cake? Beacuse this is how it's made:

페북친추?

Last week, on Sports Day, one of the students who graduated last year came back to visit school. He was one of two alumni, actually, who returned, and I was delighted to see them both. While we chatted, this former student said something that has stayed with me for some reason.

I was discussing how Facebook etiquette was quite different between students and teachers when I was in high school. Here in Korea, it appears to be very common for students to add their teachers as friends on Facebook, especially their homeroom teachers. Teachers, of course, reciprocrate, and the result is that the already very close teacher-student relationship enters a new dimension of sharing and openness in the social networking multiverse.

Way back in the 2000s, Facebook was just starting out, and it was, in fact, still restricted to college campuses when I was a freshman. I didn't think to add any of my high school teachers as friends on Facebook (except for my awesome Yearbook class adviser, Mrs. Dotson) until after I'd graduated. Even then, not a whole lot of people over 30 even used Facebook.

Now, less than a decade later, everyone and their mom has been sucked into the relentlessly blue global social media network. Here in Korea, my host mother has added me on Facebook. My former students have added me on Facebook. Even current students have added me on Facebook, as well as current teachers at my school. That is, my co-workers, with whom I can barely communicate, want to be my friend. I don't know exactly where to draw the line. I'm not really used to this, so I've stopped adding current students as friends for the time being.

Anyway, back to my former student. I told him about how Facebook had changed so much in the past few years, and how I thought it would make the teacher-student relationship awkward if they were "friends" online. But then he told me, "Well, we never really saw you as a teacher. I mean, you weren't like the other teachers, like Teacher Lee or Teacher Roh."

That got me thinking... I could interpret his words in several ways. On the surface, of course I'm not like the other teachers. My English conversation class is almost like an elective for my students; it's nowhere near as important as their other subjects, like physics or math. So, I'm not as important as the other teachers. I do give my students tests for a grade, but my class is much easier overall than their other classes, to the extent that many of them don't really care. And generally, native English teachers at public Korean schools are not treated the same as regular faculty. We rotate in and out frequently, so we don't have to help with administrative work or even contribute to faculty get-togethers. Frankly, I just kind of do my own thing at my school, and nobody has ever objected. And to be completely honest, it makes me feel isolated and useless from time to time.

But I like to think that my student really meant that I should have considered our teacher-student relationship a little bit differently. Putting on a teaching persona doesn't have to put distance between us, necessarily. Of course, I talk to my students as if they're my friends every single moment of the day. I work out with some of them. I chat in the bathroom with some of them (Man Code? What Man Code?). I tease them and ask for fist bumps and share my food and chase them down the hallway until they reply to my "What's up?" with a feeble "Nothing much." But does that make us friends? Or does that just make me the weirdo, talkative, personal bubble-invading foreign English teacher?

I'm not like the other teachers, and my students never really saw me as one of them. I wonder if the way I have constructed my relationships with my students and with the other faculty at my school has truly been for the best?

What do you think? Do you add your students and/or teachers on Facebook? How about your co-workers? Why or why not?

- - -

P.S. I am friends with that former student on Facebook. His current profile photo is one that he took with his friends, current 3rd-years, on Sports Day. It's too cute!

P.P.S. The title of this post is Korean abbreviation slang: "페이스북 친구 추가," while not a question, roughly means, "Can I add you as a friend on Facebook?"

The Smile Bank

And the award for the cutest thing a student has written in their journal all week goes to...

"My friends make me happy, because they are my smile bank."

That was in response to the prompt, "What makes you happy?" I think having my students write weekly journals was one of the best ideas I incorporated into my classes this semester. Some of them have very clearly improved their writing skills even though they only worked at it for five-ish minutes a week. Since I read all 120 journals and correct them, their writing is also a good way for me to evaluate what they're learning and for them to communicate with me.

The last journal question I asked my second-years this semester was simply, "What have you learned in my class this year?" Here's one response that stuck out in particular:

"I have been learned many things from you. How to read and write sentences, many interesting subjects, … etc. Especially, this journal makes me have bravement. When I wrote journal first, it was too hard. But constantly I was writing. Finally I can write english sentences easily before than last day. English time with you was so helpful to me. Thanks."

Cue positive feelings of purpose and fulfillment!

Oh, on a different note, here's a pro tip for high school teachers abroad: a great way to connect with your students is to show them your own high school yearbook. MSJ Costanoan '08, represent! I brought Inspired back to Korea with me last winter, and my students fawn over it. Yesterday, YJ and MW, two of my third-years, skipped out on self-study period and hung out in my office for over an hour, engrossed in the 졸업앨범 ("graduation album"). I sat next to them, correcting journals and chatting with them on a huge spectrum of topics, each one sparked by interesting photos that they saw.

On a student life page: "Oh, she is dressed up as a Starbucks."
On an article about a party: "Are they a couple? Are they dancing? Wow, her dress!"
On an article about a school play: "오만과 편견!!! Bingley!"
On the gymnastics page: "Teacher, are these students professional?"
On a clubs page: "Gay... Straight... Alliance? Teacher, do you support them?"
On the Senior Superlatives: "Are these all couples? What is 'Future Dictator'?"
On the people pages: "Chen Chen Chen Chen Chen Chen Cheng Chi Chi Chiu..."

And every time they found a picture of me, it was as if they'd discovered treasure. MW commented that I looked more mature now than five and a half years ago. YJ squealed when she found my baby picture. (She was also excited by our football team, our cheerleaders, and basically the entire book.)

I was delighted to spend that bit of quality time with my students. For them, it was solid language practice and a jackpot of cross-cultural exposure in a casual setting. Also, they taught me Busan-flavor Korean slang (including 까리 and 간지, which were used to describe female water polo players, the models for our charity fashion show, and every attractive guy they saw). A simple yearbook provides almost limitless possibilities for building positive relationships. I think I'm just going to leave mine open on my desk from now on.