Sunday, November 17, 2013

Thanksgiving Weekend

Busan Fireworks Festival. Note the smartphone screens...
Highlights (and a lowlight) from an all-around great weekend:
  • Thanksgiving Dinner with Fulbright and the US Embassy was quite nice. I ate lots of turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes with marshmallow, and pumpkin pie, and I caught up with friends and colleagues. I also performed a short demonstration of taekgyeon (right in front of the American ambassador!) and only endangered the life of an audience member one time. I'll post a video of my performance soon.
  • Celebrated a friend's birthday with cake and beer while a legit thunderstorm raged outside.
  • Caught up with a Swattie friend and talked extensively about books for our students. I love books, and last Friday I submitted an order for a few dozen more for my school's English library. Also, I baked snickerdoodles and the aforementioned friend got to try one for the very first time.
  • Walking around Seoul with my 장봉 felt only slightly incongruous. A lady mistook my stick for a handgrip and used it to steady herself as she took a seat on the subway.
  • Transportation fail: having left my wallet in a hostel, I had to borrow cash from a friend to take a taxi across the city, and I accidentally took a yellow cab, whose rates are twice as expensive as the normal taxis. I gave the driver all the money I had, apologizing profusely. Miraculously, I was only one dollar short of the fare.
  • Transportation win: I never book bus tickets in advance (I don't even know if it's possible), so sometimes earlier buses sell out. I arrived at the terminal at 5:30 and the next available ticket was for 8:15. I bought it but then went straight to the gate to see if I could snag an empty seat on an earlier bus. Just before the 6:00 bus left, I asked if there were any seats still available, and voila, I got right on.
  • I obtained the position of photography editor for Fulbright's literary magazine, Infusion! Our staff had its first meeting today at a cozy cafe in Hongdae. I'm very excited to work on the magazine this year.
Picture is unrelated: I took that at the Busan Fireworks Festival, which was a few weekends ago. I absolutely loved it. Despite the frighteningly large crowds, the beautiful, mesmerizing show really made my whole weekend.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

덕분이에요

SY: Teacher, hi!
Me: What's up?
SY: Nothing much! I got 94 on my English test!
Me: Wow, that's awesome! High five!
SY: Yeah! ...
Me: ...
SY: Uh...
Me: ...
SY: Uh... 선생님 덕 분이에요!
Me: Ah! That's, "Thanks to you!"
SY: Thanks to you! Teacher's class!
Me: Really? But I haven't taught you all semester.
SY: Last semester -- good!
Me: Well, I think you put in a lot of hard work, too, so good job! I'm very proud of you.
SY: Thank you! Bye, Teacher!

That warmed the cockles of my heart. Good for a cold, rainy day.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Fulbright Youth Diplomacy and Activism Conference (YDAC) (& two random holidays)

Dear friends, happy Pepero Day! I got a large chocolate pepero (called "pocky" in Japan and the US) from an anonymous student, and today's lunch included a packet of almond pepero, but otherwise, nothing special yet.

Pepero Day is a day to show a little love... and a lot of consumerist tendencies. The holiday was completely manufactured by snack food companies. What better day than 11/11 to buy your friends and lovers (literally) tons of the sweet stick-shaped crackers and spend money that you could otherwise be donating to...

YDAC! The Youth Diplomacy and Activism Conference, run completely independently by Fulbright teachers in Korea, is held once each semester. Teams of bright and hardworking high school students compete in a day-long series of debates about everything from foreign policy to social issues in their own country. There are four conferences throughout the country, including one in my province. My students do not participate, but my colleagues' students do, and they need your help!

Without warning, YDAC lost its funding for its upcoming fall conference, and its organizers are scrambling to come up with enough money to secure transportation, food, and the venue for the conference, all of which have been completely free for students in the past. Will you help us meet their fundraising goal? About $300 more is needed! There are only 5 days left!

You can contribute to their fundraiser here: click on this link.

That's all for my shameless plug. 안녕!

[edit] I found out from a student today that there's a traditional Korean holiday that also falls on 11/11 but which has been around for quite a bit longer. That holiday is 농업인의 날, or Farmers' Day. Farmer's Day apparently started in the mid 1960s, a few decades earlier than the earliest recorded Pepero Day observance, when livestock and agriculture cooperatives in the northern province of Gangwon-do (a very rural part of the country) got together and... did stuff? They chose the 11th day of the 11th month because in hanja, or Chinese characters, "11" is written as 十一 (shibil/shi2yi1), which can be combined to form 土 (to/tu2), the character for earth or soil.

About a decade ago, when Pepero Day was really taking off, people either 1) didn't like the cultural competition, 2) were concerned about the amount of sugar and empty calories kids were consuming on the day, or 3) both, and launched a campaign to distribute 가래떡 (garaetteok), a kind of long sticky rice cake which, when paired, is also shaped like the number 11, instead of the chocolaty 과자. Hence, 가래떡 데이 vs. 빼빼로 데이. Today, after taekgyeon practice, I received two cute packages of 가래떡, bringing my own 11/11 full circle. Well, tteok is certainly healthier than pepero, but honestly, it's not as good a treat. ;)
가래떡 (garaetteok), squishy cylindrical rice cakes, shaped like the number 11. Happy Garaetteok Day!

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Korean Words I Don't Know Why I Know

Simon from Omniglot Blog recently posted about unusual words or phrases one might learn in a foreign language. In his case, he said, "I forgot the elephant!" and realized upon later reflection that it was a somewhat odd combination of words. Yet the words were perfect for the situation.

I think it's both fun and useful to learn odd vocabulary words in a target language, even when you're first studying it. When I tutor my taekgyeon teacher in English, I often have to come up with lists of words with similar spellings for pronunciation practice. Once, I found myself dictating: "Each, teach, teacher, read, lead, meat, heat, beat... beaver." Now, I don't think 관장님 will ever encounter the word "beaver" in his Master's course, but who knows when it will come in handy for him?

In the same way, I have accumulated a few dozen truly random vocabulary words over the past two years of studying Korean. I don't always remember them, but I keep them in my Anki flashcard deck just for the heck of it. And you know what? Sometimes I find myself in a situation where I need them, and then, if I can get the timing right, the result is a Korean giving me the "Where the heck did you learn that?" look. I love it.

So here's a list of a few oddball words I've picked up in Korean. I do, of course, encourage you to add them to your flash card decks. ;)

배신자 - traitor
I first encountered the word in 광장시장 in Seoul last winter, where overwhelmed shoppers are courted by four or five intensely enthusiastic shopkeepers simultaneously, making it hard to actually buy anything. I spent a while browsing clothes in one man's stall, but eventually bought a shirt someplace else. The guy jokingly called me a 배신자, which I looked up and then stored in my back pocket for months. Last Friday at taekgyeon class, we were playing indoor soccer, and one of my teammates accidentally scored an own goal. I called him a 배신자, everyone laughed, and my inner nerd rejoiced!

쌍거풀 - double eyelids
So many of my non-Asian friends have no idea what double eyelids are. Since I grew up in a largely Asian-American community, I'm well aware that some people have single eyelids and others have double eyelids. Unfortunately, there's a pretty strongly-held standard of beauty that favors double over single. You can't be in Korea for very long without seeing advertisements for a quick and cheap plastic surgery procedure that turns a single eyelid into a double one, thus this word isn't really all that esoteric.

단풍 - leaves' changing colors in autumn
My host mother taught me this word last year, highlighting it when we went on a trip to a temple to see the beautiful foliage. I rarely encounter it nine months out of the year, but now that it's autumn once more, I'm reminded of 단풍 every day.

시루떡 - steamed rice cake
A word I learned from my taekgyeon master. He used it as a metaphor for being exhausted: "난 시구떡 됬어요!" He meant to express that his muscles had turned into jelly, or something like that. It was pretty memorable, and I stored it in my flashcards. But when I tried to use the expression in a journal entry on lang-8, another Korean remarked that he'd never heard it before and that it sounded really creative, albeit original.

초딩 - adult who behaves like a child
Another gem from my host mother; too bad I can't remember to whom she was referring when she taught me this. I haven't yet found any reason to call someone else a 초딩, but I really can't wait to do so!

외모지상주의 - lookism
I hadn't encountered the term "lookism" before seeing it as the provided translation for this phrase, but it makes sense. Like classism or racism, lookism is discrimination based on one's appearance, and it is rampant (or should I just say "standard"?) in both Korea and the US. In Korea, it is customary to attach your photo to job and university applications, which is mostly unheard of in the US; I'm afraid it gives Koreans just one more reason to worry about their appearance. Why can't skill alone be the deciding factor for hireability? I talked with my students about this in class once. We were brainstorming "problems in Korean society", and one student was trying to describe the over-emphasis on appearance. I dropped 외모지상주의 to make sure I was on the same page as him, and his reaction was, "Yeah! ... Wait, how did you know that?"

가부장제 - patriarchy
I like to throw this into conversation with my female students, who are outnumbered by the males at my school by a 3:1 ratio. Down with gender stereotypes and male domination in Korean society!, I tell them. But I think the most productive opportunity I took to put this random word to use was when I was arguing with a Korean friend about, well, "reverse sexism". He was complaining that it was really hard to be a Korean male these days, since they were all expected to make enough money to buy a house before proposing, and Korean women didn't have to worry about climbing the corporate ladder since they could just hop off and marry some rich dude whenever they wanted, and how come military service wasn't required for women, etc. I tried to summarize my counter-argument with one word: It's the 가부장제! But I ended up having to further explain how rigid gender roles aren't good for any gender, but patriarchy is inherently oppressive toward women, and, well, you should just stop complaining, dude.

비린내 - fishy smell
Picked up from my host father, either when we went fishing together or maybe when he was cooking some sort of seafood once. I really dislike 비린내, and it was unfortunate that last week's Bike Party route took us behind the famous Masan Fish Market. We rode past the docks and through a cloud of 비린내 that almost had me gagging.

등나무 - wisteria
I also learned this from my host father when we went on a walk to visit his childhood elementary school in Daegu. Months later, I identified some wisteria by the Provincial Education Office building, and my co-worker who was with me was nearly struck dumb with amazement, as if knowing the name of a somewhat obscure plant made me a linguistic genius or something. Well, I'll just admit that the wisteria is one of my favorite flowers, so it's not too surprising that I'd remember it, right?

That's all for now. These days, I have my students write daily journals, and sometimes they'll throw in a Korean word or two that they don't know how to translate. I've been adding all of these random words to my vocabulary as well, and I think I can make a part 2 for this post once I have enough! The sad part is that my Korean self-study has been going rather poorly overall since October. I blame grad school applications, which are taking up all my spare time. The first is due in just three weeks, so I'm getting kind of nervous! I'll redouble my language study efforts in January.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

수능대박!

It's that time of the year again... the Korean quasi-national holiday when schools close, streets are shut down, police escorts are on the ready, and 650,000 high school students take the college entrance exam that may determine the course of the rest of their lives. The 수능 (sooneung), or Korean SAT, was today, and this whole past week, my fellow teachers on Facebook have posted optimistic notes for their students and photos of various 수능 "celebrations": underclassmen gathering to cheer on their 선배 (seonbae), school cafeterias serving cake at lunch decorated with words of encouragement, and the like.

The phrase that seems to have become this holiday's standard greeting is, "수능대박!" (sooneung taebak) It is short for 수능 대박나세요!", which translates roughly to "Good luck/Succeed on the KSAT!", although "대박" alone can also mean "to hit the jackpot" or, in slang, "awesome".

Only a handful of my science high school students took the 수능 today: one third-year and around seven second-years. Most of them don't bother with the 수능 because they take individual entrance exams for the science universities to which they're applying. In fact, about half of them have already finished the university application process and are currently in the throes of Senioritis. In any case, I ran into one of my third-years before leaving school yesterday and, knowing that she had the fateful nine-hour exam looming ahead of her, cheered her up with a quick, "수능대박!"

So I've mostly missed the fervor that envelops most Korean high schools around this time. However, I haven't been oblivious to the way advertising has taken advantage of 수능 season. Pretty much every bakery in Korea has advertised 떡, Korean rice cakes, which are a traditional gift to test-takers because the stickiness symbolizes information sticking to their brains.
수능대박! Bakeries use the Korean SAT to advertise.
I snapped a photo of this bakery window this morning. The cute handmade poster on the left says: 다양한 합격선물로 마음을 전하세요... 수험생여러분 수능대박 나세요~! Translation: "Say how you feel with various exam-passing gifts... Dear exam-taking students, good luck on the KSAT!"

The glossy professional one on the right says: 힘내라, 힘! 11월 7일 2013 수능시험. Translation: You got this! November 7th, 2013 KSAT. It's sponsored by some association whose name at the bottom I can't decipher, but look: delicious rice cakes for your stressed-out student! Must be a dessert company.
Another, more blatant, advertisement...

 And here's one more. It reads: 젊은 그대! 한산인. D-20 수능막판스퍼트! 행사기간: 2013년 10월 17일 ~ 11월 7일. 지금은 집중력 강화와 컨디션조절이 중요한 때입니다. 한삼인이 수험생 여러분을 응원합니다... 수험생 여러분 수능 대박나세요!!

Translation: You young people! Hansamin (which I think is a brand of red ginseng drink, used as an energy supplement). D-20 (twenty-days before D-Day, the day of the exam) KSAT last-minute spurt! Promotional period: 10/17-11/7/2013. Now is the important time to reinforce your focus and regulate your condition. Hansamin is cheering on exam-taking students.

Then... blah blah blah advertising "A+ red ginseng" as a KSAT gift set, 20% off (is still 100 bucks for a box of thirty), etc. There's also a gift for your mother, to thank her for being the most supportive of (read: tyrannical regarding) your education.

The cheering way-too-old-to-be-a-high-school-student is giving the popular refrain: "Dear exam-taking students, good luck on the KSAT!"

Well, that's that. The 2013 수능 is over and now second-year students all throughout the country are going to begin their year-long prison sentence of studying 24/7 until the 2014 수능. Someone buy these poor stressed-out kids some red ginseng...

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Guy Fox Day

Teachers of English writing to Korean students:
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?

First drafts of my students' scientific abstracts are due next Wednesday.

And I am going to receive ninety papers to correct.

Many of them are going to be formatted like this.

Because nobody has ever taught them about paragraphs.

It will drive me nuts.

Fortunately, it will inevitably also become a teaching opportunity.

And not a single paper will look like this by the time I get their final drafts.

Yay, teaching!

[edit] Unrelated: Do you know Ylvis' song "The Fox"? It's a dance-y Europop song with an inane video that came out two months ago and has become a viral hit. As of now, nearly 195 million views on YouTube. Of course, I had to show it to my students. Not one to waste an opportunity, though, I incorporated the song and video into a lesson on animal onomatopoeia! Now that was one fun class. But "Fox" fever hasn't died down yet. No, sir. It may be November already, but remember, remember, what comes in November? Yeah, there's one day / that no one knows...
Happy They-Didn't-Blow-Up-Parliament Day!

Monday, November 4, 2013

Marxism

A few things happened today that would have astounded me when I first began teaching, but after a year and a half of experience with the Korean school system, I hardly batted an eyelash.

First, my schedule changed. This was completely expected; my class schedule is adjusted several times in the beginning of the semester, and then once more towards the end of the year once most of the second-year students have been admitted to various universities. Instead of teaching each of the four second-year homeroom classes once a week, I will be teaching one section of the early-admitted students five times a week. I did the same thing last year, and it was actually quite fun. Being able to see my students every day and to build lessons upon other lessons (the way I was taught English and French in high school) was a positive change that yielded some good results. What's different this time around, though, is that there are more students who have been accepted to university, so although my section is currently about twenty-five students, it's going to continue to grow as more admissions decisions are announced. Eventually, my class will either become too large to hold in a classroom and we will move into the small auditorium, or I will have to take over two sections, which will mean five more classes per week. We'll see how that turns out.

The second thing that happened was unprecedented and slightly unwelcome, but not at all surprising. I was looking forward to teaching the third-years again after the schedule change, but it looks like I won't be doing that. Instead, however, I was informed right after lunch today that the head teacher of the third grade wanted all his students to be administered speaking tests (sort of like a short oral exam) by tomorrow. Again: he wanted all the students to take a speaking test in twenty-four hours. I haven't even been teaching the third-years all semester! What the heck was I supposed to test them on? I argued a bit with the co-teacher who relayed this message to me, protesting that the idea was absolutely ridiculous and that there was no way for me to make this fair for my students. Apparently, though, there was some deadline for grade submissions that the head teacher had to meet (and had probably forgotten about until today), so the tests had to be this week at the latest. I managed to push it back to Thursday -- the day of the 수능, by the way, which a few of my students are taking -- and then threw together an assignment and rubric to guide the students as they prepared for what I hope will be the easiest 3-minute conversation with Andrew ever. I'm so sorry to drop such a load of bricks on my students' heads, especially because I really like my third-years and it's completely unfair to do this to them... but what else can I do?

Lastly, a funny story: every student was called to the auditorium today for a hastily-announced assembly on school violence during fifth and sixth periods. Consequently, my afternoon classes were canceled. I found out, however, that there was an ulterior motive to the assembly. As our vice principal lectured for two hours about nothing, essentially, the homeroom teachers and class captains went through every student's locker and dorm room to look for prohibited items (like snacks, electronic devices, pets, etc.). The second- and third-year students totally saw it coming, but my first-years were in for an unpleasant surprise. My co-teacher confiscated a few granola bars and brought them back to his desk. I thought the whole thing was hilarious, but also just a bit unethical. What about students' rights? I suppose they're waived when they decide to enter a school with a reputation for being like a prison. (I mean that in jest!)

Ah, the vagaries of Korean education. It's funny how lightly I can take all of this when the hyper-task-oriented and inflexibly organized me from one year ago would have taken the collapse of his meticulously-planned curriculum, the delivery of one shiny new pile of extra work, and the flagrant disregard for privacy with utter alarm. On the contrary, teaching here has never ceased to entertain. This is just one of the many reasons why I love my school and my job.

P.S. The title of this post comes from class today, when I played the "Six Degrees of Separation" game with my students. They had to link two random words using semantic associations with other words, like: Roy Kim/music/iPod/Apple/fruit/Jamba Juice, connecting the singer to the smoothie. I challenged my students to come up with the most difficult words they knew, and long story short, one poor student ended up having to connect "Marxism" with "anthocyanin". Those nerds. I love them.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Good at English

JH asked me after class for "help with English". What sort of help do you need, I asked.

"Just... help."

Poor JH. Here's a good example of a student who is enthusiastic for English, has been exposed to it often and thus speaks it with fluency -- a slight British flavor to her minimal Korean accent -- who is struggling with the system because her knowledge of formal grammar isn't on par with her peers.

"Everyone thinks I'm good at English, but I'm not," she lamented. "I get low scores on tests. When you have a question to choose which answer is incorrect, my friends look at the sentence like Subject, Object, Verb, but I just try to read which one doesn't sound right."

I, for one, think her English is excellent. Most of my students can't put together an utterance the way she did without first writing it down and asking me to "check please Teacher." Even the ones who get high exam scores are often too shy or scared in class to actually say anything in English out loud. Truth be told, there is more than one way to be "good at English".

"'Good at English' and 'Good at grammar' are different," I told her. "Many native speakers -- many Americans -- speak fluently, but they still make grammar mistakes. In your case, I think that choosing an incorrect sentence based on how it sounds is not a bad method -- it's what native speakers do all the time in non-exam situations. That said," I continued, "I would only suggest it for a native speaker taking a test made by and for native speakers. You are a non-native speaker taking a test made by a non-native speaker. In this case, in order to succeed, you must know the grammar rules."

"It's so hard..."

"Yeah, it's hard, and it's unfortunate, but don't let it get you down. In college, my favorite science subject was biology." (I didn't tell her it was the only science class I took.) "It was difficult, and I was not happy about getting low grades, but I still enjoyed it. Hopefully your grade doesn't affect your feelings too much. I know this is hard, because your scores are very important for you. But I think you are just fine."

And to think I can only successfully communicate that kind of advice to a student if they're already really advanced...

JH tried to look encouraged. I told her to come to my office to ask any specific grammar questions any time she wanted. Honestly, I wasn't sure how to help her. She could bring her tests to me so I could show her what went wrong and how to fix it, but my co-teacher, the one who actually teaches the grammar class, could do the same and better. Here's the thing: I've learned after a few semesters that my role as "the native English teacher" is not to teach my students the English that they'll need to pass the English portions of the 수능 or any standardized tests, but to focus on conversational English, "useful" English, and bits and pieces of American culture. I'm also here to cheer them on every day, because English class is hard and high school is even harder and life at a science high school is the hardest of all.

In any case, I'm glad JH reached out to me first, because now I know a little bit better how I should support her and cater to her learning style. Sometimes I wonder if the most I can offer my students is a feeble "화이팅! You can do it!" as they stare down the barrel of an academic bazooka, but once in a while the opportunity to really make a difference in a student's life presents itself. I hope this is one such time!

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Jinju Lantern Festival

A few weeks ago, I went to the Jinju Lantern Festival and took lots of pictures of the main attraction: lanterns. Well, to be honest they weren't really lanterns, but more like lit-up paper sculptures. They were statues that glowed in the dark. Either way, it was quite the experience. Thanks to an earlier typhoon, the weather was a bit drizzly and there were fewer visitors (the festival is famous for being extremely crowded), but it was nice enough out to walk along the Nam River in Jinju and take in all the sights. You could pay a small toll to traverse makeshift bridges and see the largest and most beautiful sculptures on the river itself, including huge floats that represented landmarks around the world, such as the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Sphinx, and the Statue of Liberty.

I experienced the festival with Elani, a friend from Changwon, and John, another Fulbrighter who lives and teaches at the science high school in Jinju. Even though Jinju is only an hour's bus ride away from Changwon, this was in fact my first time visiting. Well, better late than never!

Here are the photos! Excuse the horrendous image quality, please; I've taken these off of Facebook. If you're interested in viewing or using an original, just let me know.
A lantern sculpture depicting 차례지내기, the tradition of honoring ancestors at Chuseok, an important Korean national holiday.
There were giant "lanterns" set up all around Jinju Fortress (진주성), the site of an important battle waged against Japanese invaders in the late 1500s. A lot of these lanterns depicted traditional Korean life or warfare, like this soldier on a horse.
As it got darker, the lanterns became more luminous and beautiful. Here is a beautiful tyrannosaurus rex, ready to chomp off Elani's head!
Besides the big lantern sculptures, there were "tunnels" of smaller lanterns -- these were more like the lanterns I am familiar with. Walking through this tunnel was fantastic. All of these lanterns were homemade.
This was a cool part of the festival: people can make their own lantern and set it on the river to float away, presumably with a wish or some sort of blessing. All of the lanterns ended up floating into the nearby bank, but it still looked pretty magical.
And then there was this dragon being ridden by Guanyin.
Here is a photo of the entire 남강 (Nam River) in Jinju at night, with tons of lanterns making the river brighter than the city itself. It was so lovely! ... But dang, this looks like one apocalyptic electricity bill...

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

The Kid They Call 게이, Part 2

Part 1 can be found here.

"Hey JS, can I talk to you after class?"
"Me?" said JS.

I waited until all the other students had left and talked to JS as I cleaned the whiteboard and gathered my things.

"Good job today, by the way," I began. "Um, I just wanted to ask you about your nickname."
"Oh, yeah," said JS, as if he guessed what was coming.
"Why do the other students call you that?"

JS began a rambling story. "Well, it started with JM. He saw my namecard one day, with (my initials) AJS, and the words were a little faded, so you couldn't read it... So he wrote in "gay" (게이) as my name. It's because I'm in the Mathematics Club at our school. People joke that the Mathematics Club is gay. Apparently the leaders of the club a few years ago went crazy. During the event when students introduce their clubs, they said, 'We welcome girls, but we welcome boys even more.'"

"Oh, I see." After listening to all that, well, I couldn't say that I was surprised. "That's... funny."
"Yeah," JS said.
"So you don't mind people calling you that?" I asked.
"No, not really," he replied. "It's just... people being funny."

I walked toward the back of the room to turn off the light, thinking very hard. Then I went for it. "Do you want to know why I don't like it when people use the word 'gay', though?" Not waiting for an answer, I went on. "In the United States, students cannot say that word -- I'm sure you know..." I recalled that JS had lived in New Jersey for three years. "...Because they use it to insult and bully others. Know what I mean?"

JS was quick to catch on. "Yeah. I guess, in Korea, gay people are rare... or hidden..."
"Right," I replied. "Does that make it okay to make fun of them?"
"I guess not," he said.

"Right." I breathed a small sigh. "I'm just glad to know that you aren't offended by it. But I want you to know something." By this time we were both walking toward the door. "If you ever, ever don't like it when someone calls you that, you can tell them to stop. It's that easy. Just say, 'Please don't call me that.' You understand?" I looked at him closely.

"Yeah."
"Okay."

As he stepped out the door, I said, half to myself, "Wow, I guess it's about time I taught a lesson on the power of words, huh?"
"That might be interesting," he said. "Bye, teacher!"
"See ya."

- - -

This conversation took place last week, after a class where everything went smoothly except for one moment in a game, when JM, the same student who gave JS his nickname, called a girl gay, and the entire class erupted in laughter. I was so angry. I paused the game and sternly told them not to use "gay" as an insult. But what use is that? How could my students know they're using it as an insult? It's just a joke to most of them.

On the bright side, the incident reminded me that I wanted to talk to JS, and the opportunity opened itself right up after class.

But... sigh. How many times is this going to happen?

At last weekend's Fulbright Conference, my friend Sara and I led a small group discussion centered on LGBTQ issues as expats and teachers in Korea. We talked about various issues, including straight-washing relationships, encountering students who may be LGBTQ, how to challenge locals' notions of Korea's queer community, and handling homophobia in the classroom and workplace. I wish I could say I had all the answers, but I definitely don't. Fortunately, having the support of my friends and colleagues is encouragement enough for now.

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