Chalk It up to Cultural Differences

Once or twice a week, my school's small English department gets together for what I like to think of as teatime. We eat snacks, drink tea, and talk about an opinion or news article that we have all read. There are three Koreans and me in this group, and I've really enjoyed the discussions that we've had over the past year.

I've found that our views rarely align on most social issues, but on the bright side, this makes for lively debate and forces me to think very critically about my own opinions. Only if I'm feeling lazy do I simply ascribe the lack of unanimity to "cultural differences". It's true, there is a cultural difference, as well as an age difference and a disparity in life experience. However, I try my best to understand where they are coming from as people, not as representatives of any particular social category.

Recently, we've disagreed about the effect of media violence on a person's actions, the inclusive education of special-needs students, the welfare system for disadvantaged minorities (such as American Indians who live on reservations), approaches to immigration reform and cultural assimilation, and the benefits and drawbacks of stereotyping. Tough topics, all of them. I'm lucky to be surrounded by English teachers who think critically about issues like these.

Today, we didn't discuss an article, but rather, a student named JD. He had come into the office to ask a teacher, SK, about a very specific and convoluted grammar point. The question was one of those 따지는, nitpicky grammatical queries: if "almost" is an adverb, how come it can modify a noun, as in "almost everyone had arrived"?*

JD continued to ask a lot of difficult questions; I was glad he was directed them at SK, since I definitely wouldn't have been able to answer them. When he had finally left, SK remarked that the level of English grammar he was trying to learn was a bit high. This began a discussion on the merits of focusing on studying proper grammar versus maximizing exposure by listening and reading when trying to learn a second language. I sided with SH, who felt like our student was wasting his time on questions beyond his level that weren't really important for proper language use anyway. SK insisted that his curiosity and drive to understand difficult concepts was good, and that grammar was the better method for our students, since they aren't in a total-immersion environment, anyway.

I wasn't surprised at the difference in opinion, but I was surprised at what followed. The focus was retrained on the question of whether Korea values a clever, vocal, and highly inquisitive mind like JD's. It was a good thing he's at our school and not a normal high school, SH explained, because at a normal high school he wouldn't be accepted. SK sharply disagreed, saying that she saw a bit of herself in him, that his analytic personality was a trait that should be encouraged, since his creativity was bound to be met with success in the future. "Yes," SH replied, "but students and teachers are different now." Most teachers simply didn't like JD's outspokenness, she said, especially in math and science classes, because he's really just full of hot air. "He thinks too much. He has all of these ideas and he talks for a long time, but there's no point to what he says. He does not actually ask questions, only thinks of his own answers." SH reasoned that he was a bright student but lacked social intelligence; he needed to learn how to listen. I hesitantly agreed, offering that I really appreciated JD's presence in my class because he was refreshingly different and always spoke his mind, but that he did sometimes dominate discussions for his own gain. I was thinking all the while that we were talking a bit too much about one student, and wondered if I could change the subject.

But before I could, things started to become personal. SK argued that schools were losing respect for student self-expression. She said that outside of Seoul and Gyeonggi Province, education was too conservative and people weren't learning how to express themselves clearly. This was when JJ finally chimed in; he said apologetically that that was wrong. Schools in Seoul are just as bad at promoting self-expression, he said. But SK fired back that her own experience as a person from Seoul was really telling about the difference between the capital and Gyeongsang Province. She lived in Seoul for decades, but it was only after she left that she realized why Seoul people are called "서울 깍쟁이" (city slickers). In the same way, having come to Gyeongsang as an outsider, she had to live and observe from the sidelines for fifteen years before understanding why Gyeongsang people are called "진국" -- sincere and authentic, but only after you take the time to get to know them, because when you first meet them, boy, do they have trouble saying what they really mean. SH's voice stiffened. "Yes, but I don't think it's true about everyone." She has lived in this province her whole life. "At least we're more open than Chungcheong people."

I began to feel very uncomfortable about the conversation and turned to my computer to work. All four of us were at our desks, separated by cubicle walls, but SK had stood up. Right, she said to SH, you're actually one of the most blunt people I know. And, well, I don't know anything about Chungcheong people. (JJ, our resident Chungcheong person, mumbled something I didn't catch.) But still, even though it's a stereotype, SK continued, Gyeongsang Province really is conservative. There is some truth to what I say about the people.

"Yes, but..."

Our lively debate had descended into an argument, and I was embarrassed and extremely anxious. All of this, I remind you, was being played out in English, so I understood every word. But I couldn't think of what to say to contribute, or to dampen the sparks that were beginning to fly.

Fortunately, the comment about Chungcheong Province people seemed to diffuse the tension a bit, and SK remarked that it was dangerous for her to be talking about regional stereotypes in this manner. Edging away from the abyss, we went back to talking about JD and his educational prospects. He is definitely a bright student, and I agreed with SK that he would be very successful if he studied in a more open educational environment, such as an American or European university. I also thought he could be successful anywhere if he put his mind to it, but I didn't say anything more, because I was just about done with the discussion.

And with that, the bell rang and teatime was over. The 분위기 lightened considerably. A year ago, this was an hour when SK and SH would commiserate together about problems in Korean society, such as gender inequality, corruption in education, and school inefficiency, and I would politely listen. But today was a different beast altogether. We didn't have any tea, but things were still quite "heated".

The good thing is that I am learning a heck of a lot about Korea and Korean domestic issues by osmosis.

The Difference Between Migrants and Expats (MAMF 2013)

MAMF 2013 in Yongji Cultural Park, Changwon

After church today, some friends and I visited the Migrants' Arirang Multicultural Festival being held in Yongji Cultural Park, conveniently just across the street from Hanbit Presbyterian Church. I had heard of this unique cultural festival last year, but I didn't attend. This year, it appeared to be a much bigger event, and since it was so close and also because there was the promise of food, I went to check it out.

My first and most enduring impression was that there were a lot of people there, and the diversity was stunning. Now, I know that Changwon is home to thousands of non-Koreans. Ever since South Korea's rise to economic success, people from many other countries in Asia have arrived to seek their fortunes here. But I never realized just... how many there were. I have literally never seen more non-East Asians assembled in one place until today. And I emphasize non-East Asians because Western countries were hardly represented here. More on that later.

Mongolian representatives enter the wrestling ring.

The festival had been running all weekend, but the crowds were still bustling and events were going on all the time even on its final day. In one corner of the park, a large group of Vietnamese were holding a talent show. They were decked out in traditional clothes or t-shirts with their national flag on them. In another area, what looked like a beauty contest was taking place for the Cambodian community. Right next to them, a Nepalese man decked out in hip-hop attire was giving a rap performance to an attentive crowd. Pakistani university exchange students were blasting music and dancing together, too, to the amusement of the many Koreans wandering by the park. One of the most interesting events I witnessed was a demonstration of Mongolian wrestling, or Bökh (Бөх). The athletes braved the cold in their very bare uniforms (see photo above) and also did some interesting balletic salutes to their flag and to the crowd before commencing their bouts of grappling and throwing each other to the ground.

In addition to the events, there were numerous stalls promoting each country's unique culture and food, as well as stalls for kids to experience the "multi" aspect of the culture by creating buttons or decorating flags. My favorite part, of course, was browsing the food stalls for delicious things to eat. Vietnam had pho, Japan had takoyaki, Indonesia had sate ayam, and Russia had a barbecue grill that was billowing enormous clouds of smoke in every direction. For lunch, I got menudo, a kind of meat stew, and turon, which are like fried banana egg rolls, both from the Philippines. I also sneaked bites of my friends' pad thai (Thailand), tandoori chicken (India), and fried calamari (Indonesia). This lunch reminded me a lot of Multicultural Week at my high school, where student clubs would raise money by selling foods from all around the world, and because my high school was in Fremont, well, the diversity of authentic ethnic foods you could find at our little high school fair was superb.

Food stalls! So many good smells emanating from this area of the festival...

So here's the odd part. The first thing I looked for when I realized that it was a multicultural festival was the stall for Taiwan. I didn't find one. China had a food stall, where they were selling dumplings and milk tea (unfortunately, when I asked for one, they had temporarily run out of water... at least I got to practice my Mandarin!). But Taiwan was nowhere to be found. I also noticed that there were food stalls for over a dozen Asian countries, including countries that I must admit I never think about (like Sri Lanka, Uzbekistan, Nepal, and Bangladesh. I always forget about Bangladesh on Sporcle quizzes...), but the only European country represented was Germany, whose popular wurst stall was being run by a Korean.

It didn't take me long, however, to realize that it being the "Migrants' Arirang" festival, the only countries represented would be those of... migrant workers. I then looked around and realized that all these South Asians, Southeast Asians, and Central Asians that I had never noticed before were probably from communities of migrant workers or immigrants in Korea, and I had a really big "OH" moment.

I think that up until now, my astoundingly narrow-minded idea of the "foreigner" (외국인) in Korea was of the Western Anglophone: an independent twenty-something  from Canada, South Africa, the UK, Australia, New Zealand, or the US, most likely white, here in Korea for one to four years on a short teaching stint before moving home or on to the next Asian country. Of course, living in Changwon expanded that idea a bit to include young couples on a short teaching stint, old couples on a very long teaching stint, missionaries, foreign exchange students, and lots and lots of engineers from all over the world.

Most of these kinds of foreigners I can also categorize as "expats". The dictionary definition of "expatriate" is someone who is banished from or purposely withdraws from their native country to live somewhere else, but it has less of a negative or political connotation in expat circles today, especially when it comes to communities of expat English teachers. I've noticed that the word "expat" now refers primarily to Western foreigners, a more exclusive circle than 외국인.

And now I can see clearly how there is a huge group of people categorically left out of the discourse: immigrants (이민자). I never see them because they are mostly employed in industry, like in one of Changwon's hundreds of factories, in a completely different part of town. Migrant workers (이주 노동자) are supposed to be temporary, making enough money to move back home or onto something else in just a few years. However, I learned that in some immigrant communities in Changwon, families have lived here for ten or more years. Their children have grown up here. They are, in fact, exactly like the permanent immigrant communities in California that I'm so accustomed to (that I'm a part of, actually), only their adopted country is Korea, not the United States.

I find it somewhat awkward that this had never really occurred to me before -- it was a curious case of culture shock. That there are huge communities of minorities threaded into the seemingly solid-color fabric of Korean society shouldn't be a surprise to anyone. But it took my seeing all of them "out in the open" to realize how sizable the demographic really is.

Perhaps the other awkward part was realizing then why I couldn't find Taiwan today: there are relatively few migrant workers in Korea who are from my motherland, because Taiwan is developed enough economically for its people not to have to go abroad to find work. (Plus, Koreans don't crave stinky tofu the way they crave jajangmyeon.)

And that then made me think about how strange it would be if I did run into a poor Taiwanese enclave somewhere in the world and found myself staring straight into the face of my American privilege. Taiwanese-Americans and ABCs of my generation have generally done very well for themselves in the US. What if this wasn't the case somewhere else, and I met a community of Taiwanese emigrants who were living virtually unrecognized in a society that only acknowledged them once a year with a festival that celebrated but also completely Otherized them? I don't know what I would do. I would probably also have trouble communicating with them, beyond asking for a 布丁奶茶 and explaining that I'm actually from California.

Perhaps I'm over-thinking this now. Readers, what do you think about migrant workers and immigrant communities in the place where you live? Do you think about them at all?

In any case, I did enjoy spending time at the Migrants' Arirang Multicultural Festival today, and above all else I'm happy that Changwon hosts a festival like this, in the midst of Korea's festival-overload season. (Also happening this weekend were the Andong Maskdance Festival, the Busan International Film Festival, the Jinju Lantern Festival, and the Korea Drama Festival, and those are just the ones in the Gyeongsang provinces alone!)

P.S. Here are two articles about MAMF 2013 that I will get around to reading (and maybe translating -- they're in Korean) if I have the time: Nocut News and International News.

Beauty

So I taught a lesson on beauty.

I was nervous as I planned it, because even though I was using resources shared by other Fulbrighters -- which meant that I didn't have to create this lesson entirely from scratch -- I felt like I wasn't adequately prepared. A lot of "beauty lessons" that are passed around in native English teacher circles have similar themes: beauty is only skin deep, beauty is cultural, everyone is beautiful in their own way, etc. It is certainly more of a "moral" lesson than a grammar-based one.

The reason I felt unprepared was that I had a hard time deciding what my own lesson plan should focus on. I had the material to compare traditional standards of beauty in different countries around the world, show what the media and Photoshop can do to change our perceptions of beauty, and teach an American idiom or two. I also had photos, fables, videos, statistics, and various classroom activities at my disposal. It was too much to cover in one hour, so I had to pick and choose. And thus I had to think critically about what message I wanted to send to my students.

I decided in the end to focus on just two things: what is considered beautiful differs in many countries and cultures, and the way we perceive beauty is heavily influenced by the media. I hope that these are objective ideas. What I wanted to avoid was moralizing or preachiness, as well as too much sentimentality. 75% of my students are teenage boys; I felt like it would be difficult to reach them on an emotional level.

Furthermore, because I also wanted to know what their thoughts were, I gave them a (admittedly very boring) worksheet to fill out as we went through the lesson. (To be honest, it was also partly because I've been getting annoyed with my students for not bringing a notebook to class regularly; this way, they have to write something. And then I can read it.)

So here are some of the questions I asked, along with some selected answers. Most students didn't finish their worksheets, for various reasons. But almost everyone had at least one interesting answer. The most clever, cute, or thought-provoking I've compiled here, errors intact.

A Korean man/woman/person is beautiful if...
Male student: they have small face and length over 180cm; best of all, they look like American.
M: they are slim and they have a plastic surgery and they seem like [student's name].
M: A Korean woman is beautiful if her face is pretty and she is kind.
M: they have V-line on their face.

Female student: A Korean woman is beautiful if she is skinny.
F: A Korean man is beautiful if he is tall and has thin body and looks like woman.
F: A Korean man is beautiful if he gets plastic surgery.

Beauty is different in every culture. Do you agree or disagree? Why?
M: I agree. Beauty is decided by culture, and culture 영향을 받다 [is influenced by] environment.
M: I agree because everyone thinks differently, especially people from different cultures.
M: No, I don't agree. These days, Thanks to TV, Internet, SNS... what people want in beauty is very similar.

Where do we get our ideas of beauty?
M: we get our ideas of beauty from friends or TV or Internet. But In my case. I get ideas of beauty from my heart.

A beautiful Korean person might not be considered beautiful in another country. Do you agree or disagree? Can you give an example?
M: disagree. Korean persons are most beautiful in the world.
M: I disagree. For example, 한지민 is a beautiful Korean actres. She is always beautiful and sunshine anywhere.
M: dis, worldwide human love kpop and korean idoles.

A person who is considered ugly in Korea might be beautiful in another country. Do you agree or disagree? Can you give an example?
F: agree because they may think ugly Korean women seems true oriental.
M: Agree. Hyoyeon in Girl's generation is most ugly in GG by Korean people said. But in the other country people said Hyoyeon is beautiful.
M: No. Ugly is Ugly.
M: PSY

You are beautiful even if you do not look like a Korean celebrity. Do you agree or disagree?
M: agree. If someone tell me handsome. I'm handsome. If someone tell me not handsome, I'm not hansome. So, I can't judge it.
M: I disagree, because I'm not beautiful.

You are beautiful even if you are fat, or have freckles or an unusual haircut, or have single eyelids or double eyelids. Do you agree or disagree? Why?
M: I think they are beautiful if they are attractive enough to cover these proplems.
M: I agree because real beauty is not a external beauty. real beauty is internal beauty.
M: Disagree. These are makes people look like ugly or disgusting.
F: If I am fat. I am not beautiful.

Overall, I was not surprised with the answers. I need to actively tell myself not to be disappointed, however, because to be quite honest, it saddens me that most of my students are unable to see beauty in anyone who is not tall, thin, fair, and cute. For them, fat can't be pretty. Hairless can't be pretty. Tattoos and piercings cannot be beautiful. Freckles, in particular, are atrocious. (I think my students initially thought that the freckled girl whose photo I showed actually had a bad case of acne, even though I provided a Korean translation: 주근깨, not 여드름. Nevertheless, they were literally revulsed by her.) Why, teenagers, why must you exhibit such shallowness?

Well, Andrew, you say, because they're teenagers, duh. And because you asked them for their opinions, and they gave them.

Right you are. I've got to cut them some slack. After all, beauty is subjective, and it's silly to bemoan a difference of opinion.

On the other hand, I know that I gave at least some students something to think about as they left class. US, one of my more likable students, told me that at first, he believed that our individual ideas of beauty came simply from our own minds, but now he can see that what we see in advertising and on TV does influence us.

- - -

On a side note, I also showed the Average Faces of various East Asian races, and my students could pick out the Korean every single time. It was impressive; I had trouble distinguishing the Koreans and the Japanese, but my students knew instantly who was Japanese (and made disparaging noises at them...). When asked to vote on the most attractive face, most hands up went for -- you guessed it -- the Koreans. Second-place finishers were the Taiwanese, weirdly enough.

How well can you do? Take a look below.

Which country is each "average man" from? (Answers below)

Which country is each "average woman" from? (Answers below)

So, that's evidence that familiarity breeds liking (I think I'm mis-using that psychological concept, but anyway). It's no surprise to me that Koreans like Koreans. But what about races that they're arguably unfamiliar with? I showed my students white faces next. A majority of every class thought that the bottom left pair were the most beautiful, but nobody correctly guessed what country they were from.

Each man-woman pair represents one country with a majority White population.

So, in light of Dove's most recent beauty campaign and its consequent backlash, I've thinking more than ever about beauty and its role in our society. There's so much to be dissected here that I'm really tempted to do a follow-up lesson with my students and see what they think of concepts such as inner beauty, unconventional beauty, and self-esteem.

I would love for all of my students to think highly of themselves, because they're all quite smart and I'm not just saying that. But in addition, I believe that because everyone is created in God's (spiritual and physical) image, there's beauty to be found in every face, and I hope that knowing they are beautiful just as they come can help my students battle the pressures to conform to the unnatural and impossible beauty standards that we face.

- - -

Okay, and now for the "Whose face is that?" answers:
Men: (top left to right) Mongolian, Taiwanese, Chinese, (bottom) Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese
Women: (top left to right) Taiwanese, Vietnamese, Mongolian, (bottom) Japanese, Chinese, Korean
Whites: (top left to right) Italian, French, (bottom) American (!), Swiss

Why am I not surprised that my students found the Americans the most attractive, even though they kept guessing that they were English or French?

The Researchers (+ an announcement!)

The Spring Conference was not only a chance for Fulbright English Teaching Assistants (ETAs) to get together and share what new and exciting things they were doing, but it was also a major gathering for the Fulbright researchers, affectionately known by us ETAs as "our other half". These two dozen-or-so independent academics, some fresh out of college and others working on their Masters or Doctoral degrees, have been in the country since last fall. Their research spans a wide variety of topics all related to South Korean history, culture, economics, health, or politics, and it was all quite well done.

During the last day and a half of our weekend in Jeju, the Fulbright researchers presented their research -- mostly background and updates, since they have not been here for too long yet -- to the entire Fulbright community. I actually expected it to be tough to sit through tons of these presentations at a time, since I knew that I'd be tired from the island tour and also probably not very interested in their subject matter. Boy, was I wrong. I was completely engrossed by more than half of the presentations, and I didn't doze off once. I think the doodle-notes helped a bit; during the presentations that didn't engage me as much, I took to "enhancing" the notes I'd taken on other segments and ended up with a pretty page of tons of information about South Korea. Here are some notes! Browse at your leisure and leave a comment or question!

Suicide
Joanne Cho is researching suicide in the country whose suicide rate is the greatest among all OECD countries. Suicide (자살) is the leadingcause of death for Koreans aged 10-40 (age 10?!), although a higher proportion of older men and women commit suicide, which makes this a social issue on all fronts, for all people. The reason behind this is often cited as stress, social pressure, and inadequate mental health care, but Ms. Cho thinks it's not so simple. She is investigating not only the mental health care system and its purported deficiencies, but also the stigma and the paradoxical influence of high-profile suicides on public perceptions of how to deal with shame.

Obesity
Emerson Song is researching the effects of 한식 (hanshik, or Korean cuisine) on obesity. Koreans have a significantly lower average BMI than residents of all Western countries, but the number of overweight and obese adults is rising. Also, did you know that Asians and Caucasians gain weight in different ways/places in the body? Due to this, it might be necessary to reevaluate the way Western medicine defines "obese". The more you know!

Korean-American Return Migration
Stephen Suh has been interviewing Koreans who have lived abroad (read: in the US) for extended periods of time but have since returned to Korea and are living stably and comfortably here. Why would Korean-Americans want to come back to Korea? For one, the economics prospects in the US still suck, and native-like fluency in English can get you a long way in any job in Korea, not just as an English teacher. But the typical locations of Korean return migrants are indeed English education and international businesses, as well as in the US military, which might indicate a propensity toward vocations that accentuate a return migrant's American identity. Does the US exert a strong cultural influence on Korea without using military force? Yes. (Mr. Suh calls this neo-imperialism.) Do 재미교포 who come to Korea have a role to play in all of this? Perhaps.

Chaebol Urbanism
The 재벌 (chaebol) is a unique type of business conglomerate that has flourished in South Korea and, arguably, been at the root of its meteoric economic rise in the past fifty years. Justin Stern did a unique economic and architectural study of the effect of these conglomerates on the visual landscape of Seoul. There was a lot of fascinating history included in this presentation: did you know that in the 1960's, the South Korean government extended huge benefits to Lotte, then a small confectionery company, so that they could finance the building of a grand hotel, and then an amusement park, and then an apartment complex? These business depended on the government for their big breaks, but once the construction began, it took off and hasn't stopped since.

These days, the mark of the conglomerates is huge. Names like Samsung, Kia, Hyundai, GS, and LG are everywhere: on gas stations, cafes, department stores, office buildings, theaters, phones, and even life insurance. They have spread their influence so far that even the government now wouldn't dare funnel any money into any project without first getting the okay from a chaebol. Anyway, how has this affected the urbanization of Seoul? Well, aside from having everything that makes a city a city owned by one conglomerate or another, each chaebol's headquarters appears to have staked out a geographic portion of the city to call its own, which, when you consider how every chaebol wants its own skyscraper and beautiful, futuristic office complex in its own neighborhood, will give us a strange, scattered skyline in twenty years or so.

Cosmetic Surgery
Kayleigh Nauman is heading up an interesting project investigating attitudes of foreigners in Korea toward cosmetic (plastic) surgery (성형수술). This is informed by the fact that there are between 400-600 cosmetic surgery businesses in the Gangnam neighborhood of Seoul alone -- and yes, they are regulated as businesses, not as medical practice. Loads of foreigners travel to Korea for "medical tourism" (150,000 in 2012), but why do they choose Korea?

Ms. Nauman wanted to dispel the stereotypes that cosmetic surgery in Korea was the cheapest in this region of the world (because it isn't), or that Asians wanted to look like K-pop stars, or, heaven forbid, that Asians want to look more "Western". (I mean, I've realized by now that suggesting that the Korean or Asian beauty ideal is just Hollywood glamour transplanted onto the other side of the Pacific is, in fact, a misguided opinion at best and a white- or American-centric microagression at worst. And it still wouldn't really answer why Korea is such a hot spot for people who want to cut up and realign their legs and boobs and faces. (By the way, I acknowledge that I did write about this very idea a month or so ago. And +1 for embedded parenthetical statements.)) Anyway, this was interesting research that was definitely on my mind as I planned a lesson on beauty standards for my second-years for this week.

Doodle-notes! (Clicking on the photo will make it bigger, but it will not fix my handwriting.)

Miscellany
There was a quintet of Fulbright researchers whose topics involved North Korea and North Korean refugees. They were so informative and intriguing that I took copious notes, and I will write them all up as a separate post later.

Overall, I felt really fortunate to be able to hear the presentations given by the researchers. It was academically fulfilling to tackle these issues and get some dialogue going with my fellow Fulbrighters. It was also very refreshing to see Korea through the lenses of people who have not been dealing with students and principals and lesson plans and classroom management for six months. I'll say, teaching can really swallow you whole; after a while you begin to forget that anything else exists outside of your various classrooms.

In addition to the Fulbright researchers, some other parts of conference were given to Fulbright ETAs who were doing their own side projects, independent research or community events, things like that. As I heard from my colleagues who are compiling cookbooks, editing our annual literary magazine, or developing education-based NGOs, I obviously felt like I've been absolutely unproductive with my time here. I'm so lazy and not driven compared to everyone else! But hearing about everyone's projects was great nevertheless.

This is all such a far cry from Fall Conference in Gyeongju last October. Our last conference was themed around solving the myriad problems that had cropped up in the first-year ETAs' experiences thus far in the grant year. We're all a long way from that now: small group discussions were no longer "how to address school issue X and homestay issue Y" but more for living in Korea (dating advice, dealing with sexual harassment, exploiting every feature of your smartphone) or preparing for life after Fulbright (resume building, pursuing teacher certification). And, as I've noted, all of the large group talks were presentations on amazing projects we've accomplished since last August.

Most importantly, while I was anxious about my future around the time of Fall Conference, I can proudly and excitedly declare that during Spring Conference, I decided to renew my grant. This means that I will stay in Korea for one more year! I get a month-long break in July/August, and then it's straight back to teaching. I'll get to watch my second- and third-years graduate again, and I'll gain so much more experience in teaching and living in Korea.

Hooray!

Why I Got Angry Today, and How the Problem Fixed Itself (Kind Of)

It was supposed to be a mini-lesson on the slang prefix "super-" and its use in modifying adjectives. While compiling my list of American slang to teach in class, I'd noticed that "super-" is used more often in front of positive adjectives than in front of negative ones. (Compare super-cool, super-smart, super-cute, and super-close to super-lame, super-dumb, super-ugly, and super-far.) It's not a hard and fast rule, but I figured that most people tended to associate the prefix with ideas of greatness and attractiveness.

With that in mind, I combined the lesson on this bit of slang with an exercise in compliments. I told my classes that "super-" is most often use with positive adjectives, describing people that one likes, such as friends or family. So, my classes brainstormed as many positive adjectives as they could: brilliant, glamorous, sexy, tall, warm-hearted, awesome, nice. A few jokesters called out adjectives that wouldn't necessarily be considered positive, at least in my opinion. And that's where the problem arose.

When I had my students read their compliments out loud to each other, the "MJ is super-pretty!" and "YH is super-good at math!" were just fine, but then DR -- of all people, the class captain -- had to get up and, with a smirk on his face, read out three compliments he had written. "US is super-short, because he is only 1.5 meters. KI is super-gay, because he likes men. UH is super-dark, because..." and by that time I was so angry that I didn't even hear how that one ended.

"DR. Are those compliments?" I tried to ask it neutrally, but I bet whatever expression I was wearing made it really obvious that I was nowhere near neutral.

He looked at me guiltily, said no, and sat down again.

I tried to continue the exercise and had more people give their compliments, but inside I felt like I'd just been completely deflated. Hindsight told me to make DR apologize in front of the class, or to explain why I was upset, anything but just go on and pretend that nothing had happened. But as I was scrambling to think about what I should've done as well as what I was going to do in the last three minutes of class, it happened again. A female student said another female student was "super-cute", and some boys in the back of the classroom called out, "Gayyy."

I stopped everything and addressed the class, two minutes before the bell was to ring.

"Okay, maybe this isn't the best time to talk about this, but... I will. Please do not use the word 'gay' as an insult. It's very, very offensive." Damn, that didn't come out the way I had intended to. I could've said more, but the class laughed when I wrote 'gay' on the board to make it clear what I was referring to. Screw this, I thought. Just end class already.

Convinced I'd just botched that moral lesson, I figured I'd just save the real lecture for another day, even though I only have one class left with the first-years. I went back to my office, pretty dejected. When my co-teacher asked what was wrong, I explained that I was offended by the students who tried to be funny in class by putting down other students: short, gay, and dark-skinned are all negative stereotypes in Korea, and the "complimented" students could have been hurt by the comments.

Co-teacher responded by saying that the students were just in the habit of making fun of each other by insulting each other in a way that actually showed their solidarity and friendship. "Not that it makes it okay," she added, "but I don't think they had bad intentions."

I told her that I think it's important that students learn about how words can harm others even if they don't intend them to and about how jokes cracked at the expense of someone's feelings can be dangerous. I mused about whether I'd administer some sort of retroactive punishment or just find DR later to talk to him in person. I was scolding myself for not having a better plan of action ready, because let's be serious: this is high school, and my students are still kids. I should have expected this to happen sooner or later.

Fortunately, I didn't actually have to do anything. In the last few minutes of passing period, DR himself stepped into my office, looking meek. He came to apologize. He said, "Teacher, I'm sorry." I had him sit down, and then I explained that his words could have hurt and that while it is usually good to be funny, it is not good to be funny by making fun of other people. I told him to apologize to the three students he had insulted and also to give them real "super" compliments this time. Lastly, I asked him if he understood everything I said and if we would need my co-teacher to translate. He said no, and then I let him go.

Now, I don't know if DR actually did do what I told him to. I hope he did apologize to his peers. But if he didn't, I can at least be sure that he actually did feel remorse for his actions. How? I didn't ever tell him to come to my office or stay after class, but he came on his own initiative. I guess it was a bit of his feeling of responsibility as class captain coupled with my extremely visible disappointment in him and the rest of the class that got to him. And I was super-impressed.

In any case, after DR left, I felt significantly better about the situation. But if (when) it happens again, I'm going to be better prepared. There's no reason I can't teach respect and citizenship on top of English grammar and slang.

On Identity - Being Asian (아시아인)

This is the last in a three-part series of posts I am writing on the intersections of personal identity and Korean culture. You can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here. In my final post, I will write about Asian-American identity.

Of the three cultural workshops that I've attended where a crucial aspect of my personal identity has been discussed, I would say that the workshop entitled "Not Looking the Part, Ethnically Asian but Culturally American: Things to Expect for Your Year in Korea" (wow, what a mouthful) was the most lighthearted and engaging. Eric, the Camp Fulbright CI who was leading the workshop, is a funny guy who was definitely intent on putting a positive spin on the issue.

But what is the issue, exactly? That part was hard to tell from the content of the workshop. There were about two dozen ETAs there, most of us of East Asian descent. Also in the audience were a few South and Southeast Asians, some mixed-race Asians, and at least one white ETA who was probably there out of cultural curiosity. I think that we were all expecting a discussion of the challenges faced by ETAs who either are Korean-American and don't fit in to the mold here, or are Asian-American and could probably pass as (or be mistaken as) Korean.

Asian Identity in Korea
As it turns out, Eric is a Korean adoptee who had never been in Korea or learned how to speak Korean until he began his Fulbright grant last year. Given his background, his talk was specifically geared toward people who look Korean (aka Korean-Americans) but cannot speak completely fluently. We discussed how we might feel if we were approached by Koreans who expected us to give directions or something in Korean, but ended up being overly (or rudely) curious about why we couldn't speak it well.

This has actually happened to me three times already. Once in the town of Goesan, an older couple approached me and asked for directions -- I didn't catch where -- but all I could say was, "I don't know, sorry!" They immediately assumed that I was a foreign student at Jungwon, which I corroborated. Another time, on campus near the main building's elevators, a woman kind of off-handedly asked me on which floor could she find a certain room. Again, I said, "I don't know, sorry!" and when she heard my accent, she also said, "Oh... sorry!".

When I thought about these occasions of mistaken ethnic identity, I felt that it was actually kind of amusing to be mistaken for Korean. I'm Taiwanese, and I don't think I look very Korean. But even though Korea is very homogenous, there are actually a variety of face types among Koreans, such that I bet that if I were ever to become completely fluent, I would have no problem blending in. In the meantime, however, instances of awkwardness when being confused for a local are sure to abound. What Eric wanted to draw out of the audience were words like embarrassment, frustration, and shame (especially for the Korean-Americans who might have been told that not being able to speak Korean fluently made them a bad Korean) as a consequence of struggling with the language in public.

Eric did make a brief note, however, that perhaps each awkward situation could actually make us feel emboldened, instead of embarrassed. I definitely agree. Every time I have another conversation in Korean with a local, if I screw up, it means that I simply need to study harder and listen more closely, but if I successfully communicate my point, then I can give myself super brownie points for coming as far as I have! During the workshop, the audience was very (perhaps unusually) active in giving feedback, especially during the discussion. I piped up at one point to defend the notion that awkwardness and guilt could be easily brushed off. Because, in all seriousness, what else are you going to do to overcome common cultural problems such as a language barrier? If you can only complain or shut yourself out from the world (playing the foreigner card to get out of unwanted linguistic situations), you're never going to improve. Asians who could be mistaken for Koreans don't get free passes for not speaking the language. Instead, we get more chances to practice and learn. Other attendees were less convinced that as the "micro-aggressions" built up, it would still be no sweat to keep calm and carry on.

However, the language barrier doesn't only arise with strangers asking how to get to Family Mart. Some ETAs expressed a legitimate anxiety of not being as appreciated as a "true blue American" would be at their placement schools. Even during our site visits a few weeks ago, some of the Caucasian and African-American ETAs were a hit with the kids. I mean, if I were the principal of a Korean school and I had to choose between a tall, white, all-American foreigner and a short, skinny, black-haired, glasses-wearing kid who still looks like a teenager... of course I'd go for the white guy. I'd probably even question if the Asian one were really American or could speak English as well. But while Asian ETAs might not get the "rock star" treatment that more "exotic" (haha?) ETAs receive everywhere they go in Korea, it actually gives us an opportunity and the motivation to try harder to impress our school. In the end, we want to show that we deserve to be made a big deal of because of our skills as English teachers, not just our looks. We all want that, as ETAs. But the ones who don't look the part of the stereotyped American just get an early start.

We will also have the opportunity to teach Koreans about the phenomenon of second-generation Asian-Americans. I've found that in Taiwan, many people are familiar with the term ABC (American-Born Chinese) and don't blink an eye when I explain that I grew up in California and thus speak English much better than I speak Mandarin. But I've gotten the feeling that Koreans as a whole are less familiar with a large generation of Korean-Americans who don't speak Korean the way their parents do (or even with their parents), or consider Korea "home", or look exactly like everyone else because they grew up on a different diet and got more sun in their childhood than Korean parents here will allow. We will all probably have to do a lot of explaining with regard to the Hyphen (Taiwanese hyphen American, Japanese hyphen American, Korean hyphen American), but I'm personally looking forward to it. More brownie points for being able to deconstruct a complex social phenomenon and then explain it to someone whose cultural framework is completely different!

Because the workshop was mostly centered on issues of language and communication, I wished that we could have had more open discussion on other potential problems such as Korean stereotypes of other Asians. For example, they dislike the Japanese, and there are two (and a half) Japanese-American ETAs. I wonder what they think of Taiwanese people? Indian people? Vietnamese? What about Jewish people? One of the ETAs is half Korean and half Russian Jew, so her experience is going to be quite out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, no one in the workshop could answer any of these questions. I think that it would have been great to have a panel of past ETAs talk about all of their experience together, because I don't think we were all very satisfied.

It just goes to show that you can't lump all kinds of Asians under one catchy title and address all of their concerns equally. I'm Taiwanese-American and living in Korea. A part of me is looking forward to exploring the "pan-Asian" identity while I'm here, but at the same time, I won't stop being proud of who I am.

On Identity - Homosexuality (동성애)

This is part two of a series of posts I'm writing on several aspects of my personal identity and how they might intersect with the Korean culture in which I will live for the next year. Part 1 can be read here, and Part 3, here.

I think Korea is beating me up! Almost literally. I can actually feel myself getting more and more physically exhausted each day I'm here. Trying to wake up at 7am each morning is becoming an uphill battle. I hardly had any energy to teach this afternoon; thank goodness I was co-teaching with Brittany, who pulled tons of enthusiasm out of the blue to get our students pumped. And lastly, taekwondo. It's kicking my butt. I have trouble climbing stairs these days because my legs are so sore. Not to mention that today, we practiced sparring for the first time, and our taekwondo master (who is a fifth-degree black belt) accidentally roundhouse kicked me in the eye. Yup.

That aside... at night, when I'm not stretching or trying to fall asleep as fast as possible, I think about identity. Yesterday, I attended two cultural workshops that resonated with me deeply. These Fulbright cultural workshops are run by past ETAs who want to share advice and encouragement with the "new guard", and they cover a multitude of topics. One of these workshops was on LGBTQ+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, and more) attitudes in South Korea and resources for queer ETAs.

Surprisingly for me, the awkward turtle of my sexual orientation has already poked its head out of the shell, although most people are unaware of it. In Korean language class, one of our teachers constantly singles me out, when giving examples of grammar or vocabulary, to be the token male relation, because I'm the only guy in a class of twelve. I'm always the boyfriend or the husband, and once I was even a creepy stalker chasing a beautiful girl. It's heteronormativity at its finest. Even worse, our teacher once made a culturally naive joke about 한국 게이인 (Korean gays). She was teaching us what the verb 같다 (to be similar to something) meant, and stereotyped them all as being "similar to girls". Her "Korean gay" act was essentially an 애교 (aegyo, Korean cute-girl charm) act. I was a bit slow to understand what she was talking about at first, but once I figured it out, it struck me as fairly disturbing to borderline inappropriate. In the words of my peer who was sitting next to me, "Sooooo un-pc..."

Homosexuality in Korea
So back to the workshop I attended yesterday. The two facilitators, whom I'll call Jen and Jon, were great, enthusiastic people who were very open with us about how they were involved with the LGBT community in Korea (it's fairly underground) and what it was like to be queer -- out or closeted -- during all professional hours of their grant year.

Among the ETAs who attended, some were queer and some were straight allies. But the majority of the talk was geared toward queer ETAs who had concerns about how to live out and proud in this fairly conservative, traditional country. Jon's first word of encouragement was that homestay families would more likely than not not try to delve into our personal affairs. His homestay parents recognized that their role was to be hospitable, not to bother him constantly about why he didn't have a girlfriend, or whatever. Some of his colleagues at school, and most of his Korean friends, were also in the know about his sexuality, and had no problem with it whatsoever.

From there, Jon generalized that Korean society, while not traditionally accepting of homosexuality, at least has very little to none of the anti-gay vitriol that is so prevalent in the United States. The overall attitude of most of the population seems to be, "It's not my problem" and/or "That's a Western thing." (My guess is that it won't be long before it does become a "problem" for a growing percentage. But the issue and its corollaries, such as the fight over gay marriage, are never discussed publicly or in the Korean political sphere.)

With that in mind, the queer community is very much underground, and only in Seoul is there any significant manifestation of gay pride or any strides toward gay rights. And, as Jen noted, "underground" in Korea really means "online". Internet communities and chat rooms are big here (for everyone), and the queer community that she was involved in interacted much more through the Internet than in person. However, she did become marginally involved in some human rights groups and gave us a run-through of the biggest ones.

Both Jon and Jen dated Koreans during their grant year, and the discussion eventually moved toward those experiences. Jen was the one who remained closeted in her professional life: none of her colleagues and very few of her Korean friends ever knew that she is a lesbian. At the same time, she presented herself as a strong ally at her school, showing support for LGBT rights her classroom and building enough trust with some of her students that they were able to come out to her in private. Jen's "advice" was to keep the personal and the Professional separate. But I put that in scare quotes because she also readily admitted that being closeted at her school was a tough identity choice to make that had its consequences on her self-perception. I mean, what is gay pride worth if you choose to remain in the closet in an environment where you have the opportunity to positively share your cultural identity?

I now wish that I had talked to Jen more after the workshop, but I had had to run off. For me personally, I would have no problem staying closeted, especially if I had to because I felt that the environment were unsafe. It's fairly easy for me to pass as straight, and I've never made more than a little splash about my sexuality. In college, I guess I officially came out sometime during sophomore year, but I was not very active in the queer community at Swat. Also, some people at home still don't know, and I don't announce it to the world whenever or wherever I change scenes (for example, when I began Fulbright). Thus, I can see how separating the personal and the Professional could be how I choose to live for one year. Kind of like Anderson Cooper!

On that note, while I'd like to teach my more advanced students (if I have any) about American culture wars and current issues such as the gay marriage debate, both Jen and Jon emphasized that as cultural ambassadors (or cultural "share-ers"), even if we think the progressive opinion is the correct one, we should refrain from teaching any opinions. Teach objectively; teach only facts (that is, provide arguments from both sides of the debate), and let students decide for themselves what they believe.

Another really interesting point that they brought up in the discussion was the idea of privilege. (Oh hey, Swarthmorean discourse, welcome back!) As an out gay man in the States, although I may not be able to marry whom I want in California, my orientation is not a crime and I am protected by law against discrimination. The same does not apply for queer folks in Korea. If I am fortunate enough to meet people from an LGBT community, they will (unfortunately) have every reason to be envious of my status as a foreigner -- and an American, at that. Because even if I end up hating staying closeted in Korea, at least I can always leave after one year. They can't leave. Gay Korean men dream of moving to New York or Los Angeles, but how many ways do they have of moving to a big American city? Compared to how easy it is for me to drive to SoCal? Or how long it takes to BART to SF?

Privilege is a set of social benefits that I have but did not choose to receive. Being male, coming from a comfortably middle-class socio-economic background, and having been able to reach my current level of education are all privileges. Being a Fulbright grantee this year is also a privilege! (Being gay and a person of color are not, but that's another story.) I get one more privilege while I'm in Korea: the foreigner card. I have no idea what this will actually mean for me... yet. But I'm really curious as to how I might use it in the year to come.

The rest of the workshop was centered around describing the gay districts of Seoul and some interesting slang (일반, ilban = straight; 이반, iban = queer). When it ended, I had a lot on my mind, but didn't really talk to anyone about it. So... I talked to my blog. Ha! Dear blog (dear readers), any thoughts?