Changwon Meets Berkeley

When I left the school where I taught in Korea back in June of 2014, I gave a small speech to my students that included what has become a life motto of sorts: "This isn't a 'goodbye', but a 'see you later'." I never promised that I'd return to Korea after one year to visit, but then I did. And none of my students promised that they'd come to California, but then one did!

My student JH, who wanted to be called by his English name in my class, is in the middle of his second year at a prestigious science and technology university in Korea, but he decided to spend a semester abroad as an exchange student at UC Berkeley, where I am now doing my graduate studies! This guy is going to become an electrical engineer or have some other kind of brainiac career, but for a few months he is going to study comparative literature, German, and art alongside some of California's brightest students at the world's best public university.

I'm so glad that I've kept in touch with many of my former students through Facebook, because I don't think I would have heard that JH was coming here if I hadn't. But when I did find out, I was ecstatic. I mean, I know it's not easy for Korean students to go abroad: they might have the ambition, but not the requisite English skills or the money to afford it. Most of Changwon Science High School's alumni believe that their earliest chances of coming to the States for their education will be for graduate school or even post-doctoral programs.

But one way or another, JH found himself in sunny California two weeks ago, rode the BART from SFO to Berkeley's campus, and has already had several orientations and three days of classes. I met up with him yesterday and we had a great conversation about all of the bits of culture shock he's experienced so far and what he plans to do during his short stay here.

We had lunch at Bleecker Street Bistro, where he had his first avocado ("It kind of tastes like potato; I like it.") and remarked that the way Americans say "please" and "thank you" all the time was really impressive (I told him we're nothing compared to Canada). In Berkeley, he is amazed by the weather ("I heard that it never rains.") and by the way cars come to full stops to allow pedestrians to cross the street, and he is unsure what to do about panhandlers, since they can be more aggressive here than they are in Korea.

I was excited to hear about his classes and told him I wanted to make sure he had the best semester possible. "I'm not your teacher, anymore," I said, "but I can still help you. Here's my phone number; call or text me if you ever have a problem." When I taught him, JH's English skills were at the top of his class -- discounting his peers who had actually lived abroad in English-speaking countries -- but he still admitted that he felt completely lost during his first comp lit lecture. Well... I'll be honest; I felt the same way in my freshman English seminar way back when. I hope that this is just the first of many ways JH and I can connect in the coming months.

Changwon Science High School meets UC Berkeley! What a fantastic reunion! :)

JH and me in front of Berkeley's famous Sather Gate

Memories

I forget things easily, and I'm sad to admit it. The other day I was browsing my Facebook news feed when I saw that one of my former students had changed his cover photo to a cute picture of his entire class. I smiled when I saw the picture, then clicked on it to take a closer look. I saw three rows of familiar faces smiling for the camera, hands in the familiar "V"-sign I'd even begun to use after living in Korea for two years.

Nobody was tagged in the photo yet, so I tried to remember the names of the students in that particular homeroom class. And that's when I realized that I couldn't. Many names came back to me easily, but others escaped me completely. I had iterations of various Korean names floating around in my head, but I couldn't attach them to faces. I almost panicked because it dawned on me that my attachment to Korea has already begun to weaken and fade. I've been home for almost two months, haven't seen my students in nearly three, and despite all the messages I send on Facebook or the photos and status updates they post every day, I am beginning to forget who they are.

On one hand, this is only natural. We can pour our hearts out onto people and connect in life-changing ways, but when it's time to move on, the old links break while new ones form; the empty jar gets filled with other people. Social media and other forms of technology can only sustain it for so long. Maybe we just wern't meant to keep in touch with everyone forever.

Which do I fear more, forgetting or being forgotten? I hope that I left a lasting legacy on my students, at my school. But I know full well that I will eventually become nothing more than a memory, maybe also a photo. Courtney, who is now teaching at my school, has been doing an amazing job with my old students, as far as I can tell. And I'm happy about it. If they have so much fun in her class that they forget all the (boring) things that I ever taught them, I'll have peace of mind. But the jealous litle devil in me also wants them to miss me. To think, "I wish Andrew Teacher were still around," even though it's just a pipe dream.

Well, Courtney messaged me the other day with a photo she took of a second-year student's journal entry. And when I read what JH had written, I felt all warm inside. It really made my day.

"Since I have lived quiet good life, I have a lot of great memories. First, it is meeting teacher Andrew in CSHS. Andrew teacher is the most intelligent and kind teacher who I have ever met include Korean and foreigns. He always cheer us and keep us think optimistically. After I graduate BS in university, I'm going to meet him in US."

If you look carefully, you'll see that JH's second great memory is meeting Courtney at CSHS. I'm just so thrilled that English educators are making an impact on this young person's life. Maybe five or ten years down the road, he won't remember much of anything about either of us. (And maybe five or ten days for now I'll have forgotten what he looks like again.) But at least for now, we can know that we've done some good.

- - -

On another note, I will be closing this blog at the end of September. This is probably going to be my last post. There are some other things I've had sitting around in my drafts for a while, but it's unlikely that I'll ever get to them. If something does come up in my future that brings me back to Korea, then I see no reason why I wouldn't write again. But in the meantime, I'm starting up a new blog, this time on WordPress, that will document my adventures in graduate school. You can find it here.

I have loved writing and photographing my time in Korea, and I thank all my readers for having joined me at one time or another. If you were a friend from home, or the random parents of friends, or a complete stranger who stumbled across this by accident, thank you all the same! I hope you learned a thing or two and were inspired, possibly, to think or write or create in some way for yourself.

안녕히계세요. Peace.

Last Day

“Good morning, UJ!”

“Teacher, last day!”

“Yes, today is my last day…”

❧

Classes were canceled today (but of course) for student performances and the semester closing ceremony. I was disappointed that I couldn't have my last class with my first-years, but I had a lot of other stuff on my plate that I had to take care of, anyway. First on the list was a letter to the new teacher explaining everything about our school. I gave myself a week to finish it, and it ended up being 14 pages long. I also had to clean up the computers and my desk, which felt strange... and I ran around the school giving some teachers and students gifts at the last minute. Students kept coming into my office all day with goodbye letters they'd written for me, and I was very happy and grateful. But I was too busy to let my emotions take over.

❧

"So you're leaving tomorrow?"

"Monday, actually."

"And you're never coming back?"

"No. Uh, I mean... well, I'll probably come back; I just don't know when."

"Wow..."

❧

"You know, I always find that on important days, I'm not as emotional as I think I should be. What I mean is, after the day is over, I look back and think that I should have been more happy, or more sad."

"Well, I don't know. I think for me, I just want to act as I normally do. I wouldn't want my emotions to be dictated by my thoughts or expectations."

❧

At the closing ceremony, I watched my students sing and dance for the last time... then awards were handed out, the principal gave a speech, and I gave some final words. Flashback to two years ago, when I looked out at 180 young faces for the first time and said, "안녕하십니까?" Seriously, two years ago?

My speech was short. I reiterated the three points I'd made (up on the spot) when I was interviewed for the school newspaper. What parting advice would I give my students? Number one: please try to get more sleep. Not in class, of course, but in your dormitories. Number two: although you are all bound to be high-achieving, successful people in the future, please remember that your worth, your value as a human being, cannot be measured by your academic performance. Remember that what is most important is not what school you go to or how much you make, but who you are inside. Number three: please keep in touch! Although I am saying goodbye, I prefer to say, "See you later." My eyes became a bit damp at the end, but I held actual tears at bay.

❧

"Teacher, will I see you next semester?"

"No, you won't..."

"Oh, no... really?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Teacher, I almost cried when you talked... what was it? You said, 'remember your value'... I was so... ah... Teacher, I'll miss you!"

❧

"건강하세요. Stay healthy and happy."

❧

After the final bell rang, I paid one last visit to the hallway by the environmental science classroom, accompanied by the earth science teacher who was my gym buddy this past semester. He told me to stay healthy and gave me a hug. I said my goodbyes silently.

❧

"Teacher, can we take a picture?"

"Of course! I love taking pictures!"

❧

"Dear Andrew... I want to tell you something. When you were in this country, you made many people happy. At least the students of this school, could enjoy an english class every week. So, when you go back, you should be happy and proud of yourself that you gave us a big present i love, and a nice memory. I hope whenever you think of Korea, you feel really nice. Thank you for your existance!

Sincerely,

SJ"

❧

That's when I cried. Finally. As I sat on my bed at home with farewell letters all around me and the rain and thunder going nuts outside. I was so touched, so blown away by the affection of people I've only known for a short time. Everyone wants to be able to make a difference in others' lives, and to be validated like this, with such genuine, heartfelt gratitude from a student, was just the thing to get this stoic to shed a tear.

I will miss this... but I won't say goodbye.

See you later!

Forever

Me: Well, today is our last day of the English Conversation Club, and--

JY: Oh, nooo!!!

Me: What?

JY: That's not good.

Me: Why? I mean, you can still talk to me whenever you want.

JY: But I want to, uh... exist... with you.
Me: Oh?
JY: Forever.

Every day for the past two semesters, I have spent my lunch break running the English Conversation Club at my school. The brainchild of my co-teacher, the program is simply an opportunity for all the students to chat with a native English speaker (i.e., me) for half an hour once a month. They all attend the club in groups that rotate once a month. For the students, it's sometimes tough to remember when their day is coming up, and when it comes, they have to rush through their meal in the cafeteria, forego the day's soccer or basketball scrimmage, and meet me in the English-Only Zone to talk about the topic of the day.

Some students have dreaded this every month, but they do it partly out of peer pressure and partly because if they stick through with eight sessions (totaling four hours of English conversation!), they'll get a fancy certificate and something to put on their college applications. On the other hand, other students have really loved their monthly club time, and what has really thrilled me are the groups that have great chemistry. Somehow, they just click, and they laugh and joke with each other -- in English -- with almost no help from me. It's a joy to watch. I've gotten to know my students ten times better because of these daily conversations. I'm going to miss them so much.

The very last group will meet with me tomorrow, and then we're all done. Sixty-something hours of prodding questions and casual conversation starters, of laughs and really awkward silences. Done! I don't know what I'm going to do with my lunch breaks for the rest of the year. They'll be so strangely empty.

The most likely scenario is that I'll go back to doing what I did last year, before the program started: wander the halls, the library, and the gym to ninja-attack unsuspecting students with a loud and cheerful, "What's up?!"

June's a Circus

Hello, world. Would you look at that, we're halfway through 2014. Whew. Just a few updates for today!

1. My 3rd-year students' writing portion of their final exam includes a post on our class blog. They will get a few extra credit points if their post gets a lot of views, likes, and comments! So please take some time to look at the nine most recent entries (all made in June) and comment on anything that interests you. Thanks in advance! Here's the blog.

2. I submitted my Castleberry project report on Jeju-eo yesterday. At nearly eight thousand words, I'm actually kind of impressed with my work, especially since this is the first paper I've written in two years (since I graduated from college, reeling from Honors exams). It's far from perfect, and in fact, my research isn't even finished yet, but I'm definitely glad to have finally crossed that hurdle. I'll post a more substantial update on my research soon.

3. This week, as I predicted about a month ago, is the week from hell. It began when I listened to thirty three-minute speeches in my classes today. Only 130 left to go in the next four days! But that's not all: my hardworking students took my offer to correct extra drafts of their speeches seriously, and as a result, the door to my office opened countless times today as students came in shyly, holding out papers and hopes for last-minute favors: "Teacher, can you please check this draft until [sic] tomorrow?" Even though I already corrected 160 drafts -- twice -- in the beginning of June, well... I relish a challenge. Bring it.

4. In one week, I will take my blackbelt test for taekgyeon. Another source of stress, I suppose.

Basically, the month of June has been very, very busy so far, and the end is just coming into view. After next week, it'll be downhill coasting all the way to the end. I'm a bit excited and a bit nervous. In addition, it seems as if grad school stuff is picking up, too. The other day, I received an email that included the names of Cal Linguistics' entering class of 2014: my six soon-to-be classmates! Although I resisted the urge to Facebook stalk them all, I did Google myself really quick, just to see what would come up. And, well, you don't have to scroll for very long to find this blog.

I of course welcome friends and strangers alike to read about my life on my little corner of the Internet, but it sure is strange to think that people I am going to work very closely with for the next five years could know a lot more about me than I know about them before we even meet.

And now, apropos nothing, here is a photo I took at my favorite local bakery the other day.

Profound and mysterious bread. The best part is that this isn't even a mistranslation. 오묘하다 means profound and mysterious. I should have bought this to find out what exactly makes it so!

P.S. Happy Father's Day (back in the States) to my one and only Babi! I think he reads this.

Listen

I'm at the school gym after dinner to fit in a workout before the first night-time self-study period begins. When I arrive, it looks like a handful of third-year students also have the same idea. Well, they're in the gym and sitting on the weight equipment, but as it turns out, they're not exercising. Instead, they're using the gym's sound system as a jukebox and singing along to their favorite K-pop ballads.

"Hi, TK! Hi, HS," I say. "What are you singing?" HS names a song I've never heard of by a singer I don't recognize.

"Oh, that's cool. Hey, have you seen these songs in English?" I ask. Every few months for the past two years, I've burned a CD of random American or British pop music and left it in the gym in hopes that a student will be interested enough to listen to it. I'm up to five CDs now, and I indicate one of them. "Want to sing one?"

"Uh... I don't know any American songs," says HS hesitantly. TK butts in: "Teacher! He doesn't like English!"

HS looks slightly mortified. "No, I like English!" he protests.

"It's okay, HS," I reply. "You know what? It's okay if you don't like English. Really, I don't care."

His face slackens, and then a soft grin appears. "Oh, then, I hate English."

"But even if you don't like English," I continue, "you have to try hard in my class."

"Yes, teacher," says HS.

TK laughs. "Teacher, I also hate English."

"Oh, yeah?" I say. "Well, TK, like it or not, you still have a test tomorrow in my class, and I expect you to do well."

"Oh, yeah," says TK. Then he groans exaggeratedly and buries his head in his hands. He probably hasn't studied at all!

After this lighthearted exchange, I lift weights for a few minutes until I hear the next ballad they have chosen to sing: Beyonce's "Listen" from the Dreamgirls movie. Grinning widely, I go over and join them for the rest of the song.

Listen, I am alone at a crossroads
I'm not at home in my own home
And I've tried and tried to say what's on my mind
You should have known
Oh, now I'm done believing you
You don't know what I'm feeling
I'm more than what you made of me
I followed the voice you gave to me
But now I gotta find my own.

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 Future, according to my students

Drafts! As tedious as it can be to correct my students' essays, I enjoy reading them and getting a glimpse of their creative thought processes. Also, these drafts are hilarious. So here are some gems from my first-years' predictions of the future. The prompt was to talk about how the world will change or where they will be in 10, 50, or 100 years. Most of them chose to make omens about global warming and world war, share their dreams of becoming the world's best scientist, or pontificate about developments in technology.

(Keep in mind that these are first drafts, so there are plenty of funny errors; of course, these will be fixed up by the final draft!)

#1 Throwing Fire
So we can forecast our country will be changed, But how? We know that the rock will be move if we put TNT underneath the rock and throw the fire on it, but we can't forcast where will it move exactly.

These are wise words on the unpredictability of change in Korea following a disaster like Sewol-ho.

#2 ALL THE NUTRIENTS
Second, we will eat medicine instead of rice, bread. Our mothers are good at cooking, but maybe they don't like cooking. So, food stores will make medicine that has all the nutrients.

#3 Tubalroo
Don't forget our global issues like submarging Tubalroo, two times of World War and great men who did available works for us.

My friends and I have been debating the veracity of the idea that island nations like Tuvalu or the Maldives are sinking due to global warming. But this issue aside, her spelling is just adorable.

#4 Angry Mammoths
Second, Global warming increases. so the world is as angry as angry mammoths.

NB: I'm requiring them to use similes in their essays. Oh, those poor dead mammoths - avenge yourselves!

#5 Exploitation
But unified Korea we can use North Korea workers for cheap bills.

More students than I'm comfortable with cited the availability of North Koreans to do "3D jobs" (dirty, difficult, and dangerous) instead of South Koreans or Southeast Asian immigrants as a benefit of imminent reunification. Um... Not so hilarious, I guess.

#6 First Penguin
The importance of education is creative mind, character, Leadership, how much do they try, not a result, not a university, not how smart are they, how much do they know. Future, made by us, I hope everyone could be "first penguin" to fix wrong mind.

Great thoughts, great thoughts, great thoughts, and... wait, what?

~ ~ ~ Intermission ~ ~ ~

Class 1-2, the class that never speaks up and never exhibits any shred of enthusiasm, surprised me by writing the most amusing or thought-provoking essays by far:

#7 Candor
There are many scientists in the world. However, they don't think about the environment. I hate them.

#8 Incurable Illnesses
Doctors will make something like panacea and incurable illness like Albinism will be removed from Earth.

Of all disorders to choose for your example...

#9 The True Meaning of Peace
Many Koreans suffered how terrible the division of a tribe is. So only Koreans would understand the importance of peace. Peace does not mean the situation of no war. This is just a narow definition of peace. The true meaning of peace is that all countries coexist and make harmony.

Preach, sister!

#10 The Google Translate Essay
International CEO is also one of my dreams. I will study hard for my dream and Natural systems, as well as humanities disciplines is substantial as it will foster literacy. Through basic science such as physics, chemistry, biology, earh science and so on Further study and will deepen the Engineering Departmant. I am not purely based on mathematical Sciences, engineering, humanities, business, and financial basis of the complex to become a mathematician wants to study at POSTECH. My dream is for the essay is here.

Man! Even after I specifically told this student not to use Google Translate... he went and did it. This one's going to be a struggle.

#11 The Dinosaur of Dreams
On 5/18, the biggest Dinosaur was discovered. Then, I felt that I have many dreams, so I can't choose my real dream yet.

This is either the best non sequitur or a simple mistranslation of "그때".

#12 The Understatements of the Century
First, many separated families will be able to meet again! They will be as happy as a student who gets A grade in test because of this meeting. In now, separated families' number approach in 600~700 thousands. So unification is very very important thing like go to restroom.

This student also stated that nuclear weapons are as scary as a tiger. He must love figurative language!

#13 The Rant
Do you really think that our future life that we just imagined is really good? Can future people have affection for each other? Just look at us! A long time ago, before scientific technology developed, or the computer system was expanded, people connected to each other just face-to-face. And people cared for each other and helped as friendly as a real family. How about these days? When people get together, they start to talk only for 3 minutes. Soon, they just look at smartphone, or tablet PC! What a strange situation.

I was so impressed by this. Girl knows what's up.

머리스타일, 놀라워 - Meolistyle: No, La, Woah!

JH got up from his end of the table and sat down again with his tray, right across from me.

"Talking is fun," he said. Boom. Day made.

Meanwhile, JM was eating with his eyes trained on the television show playing on the screen in the cafeteria. The show was some sort of reality TV filler that followed the members of one of Korea's most famous boy bands, Infinite. I like one of their members, Hoya, who starred in Reply 1997, but I don't listen to any of their music (1). As we watched them do vaguely interesting things, my eyes were drawn to their hair. All of the members have pretty flamboyant personal style and fashion sense (though I definitely don't think any of them has any control over his public image). One in particular (maybe SungJong?) was sporting a head of singularly unattractive bubble-gum pink hair. It made me laugh out loud, and I looked at JH.

"JH, would you ever want to have pink hair?"

"Never," he said.

"Well, then, if you could dye your hair any color, what color would you want?"

JH thought for a minute, and his eventual answer surprised me: "Gray! Like an old man."

I dig it. (from Pinterest)

I think that could work. Instead of gray, though, I told JH that he might want to go for silver. It's been done!

I also told JH that I'm thinking about cutting all of my hair off, shaving it really close, as it was when I first came to Korea two years ago. The reason is that my black belt test in taekgyeon is in a few weeks, and I'm getting really tired of having my hair in my face all the time when I'm trying to concentrate on my kicks or forms. I use a bandana or a headband to keep my bangs in check, but it's still 불편해 (inconvenient)!

Showing JH and JM my really, really long 앞머리, I quipped that it was so long I could almost braid it. "Do you know what a braid is?" I asked. They didn't. I very, very rarely see any Koreans with braided hair (땋은 머리). I'm not really sure why... it's just not a thing here, I guess. Women always have their hair down. And men generally don't sport long hair, anyway.

This reminded JH of an old Korean custom. He explained that in ancient times, Korean men and women both had long hair and kept it up: women had unbelievably elaborate braids and updos, while men had top knots (상투) (2). According to JH, people would never, ever cut their hair, because they considered their hair to be a part of their ancestral heritage. I find that idea very intriguing.

But then, so the story goes, the Japanese came and cut off all the men's top knots. It's more than a bit symbolic, as Japanese colonialism really did sever Korean culture from its roots. Ever since, Koreans have had more "modern" hairstyles.

The picture I showed my stylist.

And today, hair is big. There's no question about it. Hair salons are everywhere; there are four or five in a ten-minute radius around my house. It is extremely common for anyone to perm and dye their hair, no matter their gender or age. I've seen toddlers in barbershop high chairs and old ladies getting their latest ajumma perm. My taekgyeon master permed his hair last week; on Friday it was straight, and on Monday it was a tangle of loose curls. Of course, people my age like to follow trends, and as far as I can tell, right now dark brown is in, but simple cuts are not. For guys specifically, they're asking for something called 투블럭 ("two-block"), which is equivalent, I think, to an undercut. The sides are shaved close and the top is left to its own devices, sometimes with the help of a perm or wax.

Now, one year ago, I was pretty set against ever changing the super-straight, super black natural state of my hair. In a nutshell, I didn't want to be a trend-follower, I didn't want to possibly contribute to the stereotype that Asians prefer a look that is more natural for Caucasians, and I didn't want to send a message to my students that I was at all dissatisfied with my natural hair. But I did want to change my hair, simply out of... I don't know, call it an early-twenties desire to color outside the lines every so often.

In February this year, I dyed my hair brown. I was literally dragged into Punk Shalom by my friend Katelyn, who told the folks there that I wanted a change and that they could make it happen however they liked. It was, in fact, a very fun experience. When I returned to school the following March, I got double-takes and plenty of compliments.

Before, During, After!

So by last week, almost four months later, the roots were growing out and everything was just getting too long, and I decided I needed another haircut. But then I toyed with the idea of perming (파마) instead. It's another way to keep my bangs out of my eyes, and also... I won't deny it, it's popular.

Thus, I brought paperwork to a salon near my house that I'd been to once before and corrected my students' speech drafts for three hours while sporting curlers and a head saturated with chemicals. Yeah, a perm takes a long time. The result was, as you can see... wavy.

It's not pink or silver, but it's certainly crazier than anything I've ever done with hair -- and that includes bleaching it myself in the dorm bathroom three years ago.

Did I worry this time about compromising my values? No. Do I have qualms about how my friends, family, co-workers, or students will react? Not in the slightest. But am I now wondering about how closely hair is connected with identity, and considering how changes in my appearance may reflect changes in myself that two years of living in Korea have wrought? Yes.

And am I also considering letting my hair continue to grow out until I can make a respectable top knot?

Yes.

- - -
1) This is one of Infinite's most recent music video releases, for a song called "Last Romeo".

My reaction: Eh... 별로. Unfortunately, this video is the epitome of what is popular in K-pop today: angsty, strangely-albeit-immaculately-dressed men pointing at the camera and dancing really well in dimly lit halls, reaching longingly toward the same forgettable girl only to have the entire library explode into confetti from a thousand fake books.

2) Speaking of top knots and taekgyeon, 관장님 told me that when taekgyeon players during the dynastic periods sparred, sometimes the winner would be determined by which man could hit -- rather than the face -- his opponent's top knot first. Illustrations of taekgyeon being played in bygone eras show men with very long queues in the ring, while those who watched wore their hair up. (Actually, he also said that only married men sported 상투...)

P.S. Title of this post comes from an Akdong Musician song, 가르마 (Hair Part): 머리스타일 하나로 다른 사람이 되다니 정말 놀라워. Translation: You can become a different person just by changing your hairstyle, it's amazing.

Windy Hill and Camellia Island (바람의 언덕과 지심도)

Continued adventures on Geoje Island! The first half of my weekend wasn't so smooth (see previous post about transportation fails), but I had a blast spending Saturday night eating good barbecue, playing Cards Against Humanity -- the most hilarious and inappropriate card game -- and falling asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the beach.

On Sunday morning, my friends and I headed out onto the peninsula to visit Windy Hill (바람의 언덕). Supposedly it's very windy there, but I didn't feel so much as a breeze. Jeju Island is infinitely windier, that's for sure. But Windy Hill has an adorable little windmill at the top of it. Actually, it's not very little at all. But it sure is picturesque. The seven of us took photos, just like the hundreds of other tourists there, but we also turned a few heads as we filmed a few short segments for a music video we're making...

From left to right: Carly, Anna, Amy, Neal, Rachel, and another Andrew, at Windy Hill in Geoje.

After Windy Hill, we taxied up to Jangseungpo and got tickets for a ferry to go to Camellia Island (지심도). A few scenes of a recent mega-hit Korean drama called My Love from the Star (별에서 온 그데) were filmed on this island while its camellia flowers were in full bloom. Of course, my K-drama obsessed friends Amy and Anna were beyond thrilled to be setting foot on the island that Kim Soo-hyun pretended was his own alien planet.

Well, 지심도 really is quite pretty! And although the skies were threatening to rain, it was cool enough that a brisk walk along the secluded and forested paths was more refreshing than exertive. I believe that nobody actually lives on the island; some people run shops and restaurants for daily tourists, but today it seemed almost deserted. All the better for us to film some extra scenes for our music video with nobody around to accidentally walk into a beautiful backdrop!

Our small ferry to Camellia Island. Side note: there are no trash cans on the island at all! All trash must be carried down to the boat each evening to be taken back to the mainland.

Well, there isn't much else to do on 지심도 than 산책 and look at the ocean or the camellia trees (동백나무), which weren't in bloom, so after a few hours, we headed back down to the pier to wait for our boat. The round-trip fare is ₩12,000 and boats leave about every hour until around 3pm. And that's all for Camellia Island!

Fulbright friends on Camellia Island!

It was nearing 5pm by the time we returned to Jangseungpo, so I decided it was about time to head back to Changwon. After grabbing a quick snack at Lotteria (and realizing to my amusement that it was my first time eating at a Lotteria since Fulbright Orientation... way back in August 2012!), I hopped on a bus home.

To my great surprise, I ran into two students on the bus when it stopped at Tongyeong! YJ, who lives in Geoje, and HY, a first-year who lives in Tongyeong. I was very happy to see YJ, who never shies away from talking with me and also asks me really interesting questions about life in the US. "Teacher, in Korea, the curriculum at Seoul National University and Geoje University are actually the same; they use the same textbooks and the professors aren't necessary better teachers at SNU. So it's only the reputation of the school that makes a difference. Is this so in the United States?" ... What a conversation starter, huh?

When we arrived in Changwon at 7:30, the three of us took a taxi back to school. Students have to return to their dorms by Sunday evenings at 9pm. Since we had some time to kill, I invited them both to dinner. HY had already eaten, but YJ accepted, and we got chicken at the local chicken joint, cleverly named ChiKing (치킹). Fried chicken fit for royalty. I am sure that this is the place my students call when they break the school rules against ordering takeout from their dorm rooms at night.

Anyway, I'm very pleased with the trajectory of my mood this weekend. Yes, it started off kind of low, but the steady increase went exponential by Sunday evening. Treating one of my favorite students to dinner ended it on a high note. I wish I could do this every weekend!

A view of the ocean from Camellia Island.

소방 훈련 (Fire Drill)

Today there was a 소방 훈련 (fire drill), and unsurprisingly, I wasn't informed of it until about half an hour before it was to take place. Of course, I'm sure somebody must have announced this days ago, only it would have been in Korean, and I don't really pay attention to the announcements at teacher meetings.

A little past 4:30, the bells began ringing and dozens of students burst excitedly out of their study rooms to run outside. They weren't supposed to run, in fact, but give them any excuse to escape their study carrels, and they'll take it.

Local firefighters (소방관) had come to our school for the drill to educate us on proper safety protocols. They also allowed some students to practice using a fire extinguisher (소화기)! I think it looked pretty fun, speaking as someone who has never even touched a fire extinguisher. The white dust that blew toward the audience after the controlled fire was put out though didn't amuse them, though.

A photo I took from the last 소방 훈련 we did, way back in Fall 2012. Yay, fire extinguishers!

After the drill was over, I ran into MS, a second-year who had gotten to try her hand at firefighting.

"MS!" I called to her. "You got to use the fire extinguisher! Was it fun?"

"Oh, teacher, no," she said, looking none too happy.

"Really? Why not?" I asked.

"Because... Teacher Kang tell me, um... '시켰어요' 영어로 뭐라지?" She turned to her friend for translation help. I did a quick search through my mental dictionary.

"Teacher Kang... commanded you?" I suggested. 시키다 means 'order' or, better for this case, 'force someone to do something'.

"I didn't want to do it," MS explained, "but Teacher Kang said I am like a man, so I have to!"

That got me laughing. I assume the local firefighting unit had wanted to give the girls a chance to be involved, but the homeroom teachers probably decided that that meant only the "manliest" (i.e. strongest, sorry feminists) could properly carry out the task.

Or maybe it was a joke. I wouldn't put that past Teacher Kang.

And here's a photo of some of my old students at the time... All but nine of these students have graduated. I miss them!

To Teachers!

The Korean Google Doodle for Teachers Day!

Today is Teachers Day! It's a special day when students show their appreciation for their teachers past and present, in keeping with the idea that in Korea, a child's teacher is every bit as important, respected, and responsible for a proper upbringing as her parents are.

Gifts of food, flowers, and boutonnieres were delivered to all the offices today, and I got a nice note from one of my favorite students. What really surprised me, though, was seeing banners strung up in our main building's atrium. At first, I thought that they were more of the banners that our school puts up to congratulate students who win competitions. But then, I saw that they were from universities... and also that some of them were rather oddly designed. I don't think Yonsei University would really congratulate future prospective students with a grinning eagle-headed man or that Hanyang University would compare our teachers to coffee.

When I actually read the banners, I realized that they had been given by former students of Changwon Science High School. There was one each from five of the best universities in Korea: Hanyang, KAIST, Seoul National, Sungkyunkwan, and Yonsei; all of them had well-wishes and words of thanks. The amazing kids at KAIST also sent a banner on which they had hand-written long letters to their past teachers: the hardworking, sacrificial individuals who'd led them through two years of grueling academic torture so that they could succeed in their education. I noticed a "Mr. Cheng, Thank You" among all the indecipherable Korean, and I was touched.

These are some of the banners strung up in the hall. I'm going to try my hand at translating them... from top to bottom:

Hanyang University: "If our school's professors are like normal coffee, CSHS's teachers are T.O.P. We'll never forget your kindness."
KAIST: "We will never forget your kindness."
Seoul National University: "We're becoming people thanks to you, teachers! We respect you always." (And this one is followed by the names of students along with nicknames I don't fully comprehend.)
Sungkyunkwan Univesrity: "How our teachers' kindness is higher than heaven! Thank you."
Yonsei University: "To our teachers who guided us along a straight path, everlasting thanks. Yonsei pride for CSHS: Go Eagles!"

Anyway, I want to take just a moment to thank all of my past amazing teachers, starting with Swarthmore professors who've really helped me and had an impact on my life: To David Harrison, Donna Jo Napoli, Nathan Sanders, and Helen Plotkin. And to my own high school teachers who would probably be surprised to hear where I've ended up six years after graduation: Jean Dotson, Lee Glover, Valerie Hodin, Elizabeth Waller. To my coaches and cello teachers, youth pastors and camp counselors, dozens of language teachers of dozens of foreign languages, and my parents. To all my friends who have studied education and burn passionately for their schools or for fixing the broken American education system. To everyone who's ever invested themselves in the cause of a well-rounded, accessible, and inspiring education for children all around the world... To teachers! They are among the strongest and most important members of any society. Give your nearest teacher a hug.

스승의날 축하합니다!

I(Q)

Some of people olny judge me by my IQ or abillity. I hate that point of view, but people usually do that. I have an over average IQ. If some people know that my IQ, They remember me that "He have very high IQ" and they forget about who I am.

- excerpt from a student's journal entry today

A Small Story That Illustrates Why I Love My Job

Flexibility is a must when you teach in South Korea. Schedules change as the wind blows, and random responsibilities are dropped into your lap as often as random snacks and gifts from the main gyomushil are. Today I was gifted a package of rice cakes in celebration of a co-worker's new baby boy (yay!) and an entire unexpected evening of English presentation coaching (boo!).

On the bright side, the nearly three hours I spent with just two students turned out to be some of my most productive hours so far this semester. In fact, I didn't regret a single minute.

Here's what happened. After my last class ended at 4:30 today, I was chilling at my desk, doing mindless computer things until 5pm rolled around so I could hit the gym. But at about a quarter 'til, my two co-workers stood up and said, "It's time to go." They told me that two students were going to participate in an international science competition and needed to practice the ten-minute presentation they were going to give in English. It was assumed that I would drop into rehearsal to give feedback. I nodded and joined them. See you later, treadmill; hello, science seminar room.

To make a long story short, my students' presentation was a mess. Poor YJ and DH had hardly caught up on work after last week's midterms; it was obvious that they hadn't prepared very well. Their script had quite a few grammatical errors -- for not having ever given it to me to proofread, it was passable, but still -- and DH hadn't memorized his part completely. Even worse, their presentation style had nothing going for it: butchered pronunciation, no eye contact, no gestures, no intonation whatsoever. It was like two robots reciting a Google translated research paper. And they droned like this for a minute over the time limit about a new kind of anode material for lithium ion batteries. Not the most scintillating subject, to boot.

I felt bad for my students because it was obvious even to their research adviser, who hardly understands English, that they had a lot of fixing to do. My co-teachers excoriated them as kindly as they could: you should have given us your script to proofread weeks ago, you should have practiced making eye contact, you should have added some sort of interesting introduction, but it's pretty late for that. Why? It was then that I learned that the competition is this weekend, and my students are leaving the day after tomorrow for Houston, Texas!

As excited as I was that they were going to visit the US, I realized to my sudden dismay that they had less than 48 hours to get their beached whale of a presentation back into the ocean. We all realized time was short, and my co-teachers turned to me to ask the inevitable: "Could you stay a bit later tonight?"

Now, I routinely stay at school for dinner and work late, sometimes until 8pm or later. This is for a variety of reasons: I don't like to take work home, so if I'm correcting a big batch of student journals, I don't mind staying at my desk to finish them even after everyone else has left the office. Also, during the winter, my office was much warmer than my apartment... But tonight, I was planning to get home early, maybe catch up on some TV, take care of miscellaneous chores... Nope. I calculated how much my students needed my help, weighed it against how much I needed to watch the next episode of Glee, and chose to stay.

I spent the first hour giving feedback on their first presentation and editing their script. After dinner, I met with YJ and DH in my classroom and coached them for another hour on pronunciation and intonation. It was especially funny trying to get YJ, who is naturally extremely quiet, to exaggerate the stress and enunciation in phrases like, "in other words" (in UHHH-ther worrRRDS!) or "as a result" (AS a reSUL-lll-LT!).

I also made them use their hands to indicate relevant charts and graphs on their poster, remembering how their adviser had berated them: "What's the point of having a poster if you never give your audience a reason to look at it?" They had to move their heads with their eyes while making eye contact, keep their bodies pointed toward the audience, and, most of all, smile! Smile at the audience! Smile at their partner! Smiling makes you calmer and more confident, but I don't think they realized how true that really is until I forced them to smile until they laughed.

After an hour and a half, my co-teacher came back to evaluate their progress. They were visibly nervous, and I was nervous for them. (And also for my own sake, I'll admit: what if my coaching hadn't been helpful?) But as my students presented for the third or fourth time that day, a wondrous change took place. YJ smiled. DH looked calm and composed. Both of them were miles more interesting this time around. And best of all, my co-teacher clapped enthusiastically for them as soon as they'd finished, exclaiming with genuine surprise that their presentation had improved dramatically. She praised YJ and DH; I think the solid ninety minutes they spent focused 100% on their goal paid off tremendously. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Now, YJ and DH still have quite a bit of work to do, particularly preparing for the Q&A and maybe tightening up the speech so that it falls under the allotted time frame, just to be safe. But I'm relieved. I'm happy that even though my evening was unexpectedly snatched away from me, I was productive and helped two students make visible progress in their language skills. I love coaching presentations; it's fun to work with small, focused groups and gratifying to be the cheerleader tossing confetti when all the other teachers hurl criticism.

I'm wishing YJ and DH the best of luck when they go to Houston. It'll be the first time in the States for both of them. During tonight's coaching session, I stopped for a bit to ask DH if he was excited about his trip. "Not really," he said, "because this -- because English is so difficult!" Sympathy for the kid whose nervousness about language is clouding the awesomeness that is international travel, please! I told him that no matter how well or how badly he does in the competition, he should relax and try his best to enjoy being in the US, since even just going there is an opportunity most people his age don't get.

My Students' Blog

My third-year students' semester-long project is a class blog. You can find it here.

The most recent posts are part of a series called "Introduction to CSHS", where they write about various aspects of our school, including the science departments, students' fashion, and sports.

I'm happy with their work on the blog so far. It's equal parts funny, serious, and incomprehensible. The best part is that my students' personalities really come through in their writing. Please read and leave a comment! They really appreciate notes from strangers, and they actually do pay attention to their page views.

Bonjour, classe!

La cloche sonne.
Moi: Bonjour, classe !
Mes élèves: ???
Moi: Quand je dis "Bonjour, classe!" vous disez "Bonjour, monsieur !" Alors: bonjour, classe !
Mes élèves: Bon... jour ? Ils se discutent en coréen, perdus.
Moi: Quelle est la date aujourd'hui ?
Mes élèves: ???
Moi: Encore une fois, quelle est la date aujourd'hui ? Aujourd'hui, on est... (J'indique la date que j'ai écrit sur l'écran.)
Mathieu (lisant): On est mardi, le premier avril, deux mille quatorze ! (Mathieu a étudié au Canada pendant trois ans.)
Les autres: ?!?!?!
Moi: Très bien ! Alors, maintenant, c'est le temps pour révoir vos journaux! Lisez ce que j'ai écrit, et si vous avez des questions, demandez-moi, s'il vous plaît!
Mes élèves: ???
Moi: Est-ce que vous avez des questions ? Des questions ?

Poisson d'avril ! J'ai commencé mon cours aujourd'hui en français, et mes élèves ont été complètement surpris ! Ce poisson en particulier, je l'ai fait l'année dernière avec des autres classes, mais pour les victimes de ma farce pour le premier avril cette fois, c'était le plus amusant choc du semestre. En fait, ma petite blague les a vraiment réveillé pour le permier cours du jour, à huit heurs cinquante!

Malheureusement (ou heureusement, d'après le point de vue), je n'ai que ce cours le mardi, donc je n'ai pas eu l'occasion d'essayer la farce pour mes autres classes. Tant pis ! En générale le premier avril passe sans trop de drame dans un lycée des sciences comme le mien. Personne n'a pas fait une farce à moi, mais j'espère que quelqu'un a essayé, sur mes conseils, à parler en anglais seulement dans le cours de coréen ! Cela aurait été vraiment rigolo !

A propos des langues, j'ai quelques élèves qui voulent apprendre le français, et elles savent que je peux le parler. Je les ai dit que je suis leur prof d'anglais, alors il faut que j'enseigne l'anglais en classe. Mais hors de la classe, c'est possible, bien sur !

To Remove a Fatal Complex

All I remember is that I had an unnaturally vivid dream whose contents now escape me and that I woke up from this dream thinking that, as my alarm hadn't yet sounded, I probably had a good ten more minutes to sleep. So I went back to sleep.

And then my phone rang. It was my co-teacher. It was 8:43. I had a first period class at 8:50. I swore.

Not really understanding how I had managed to sleep through both of my alarms, I jumped out of bed, threw on the first clothes I found in the closet, considered asking my co-teacher to cover for me, then just bit the bullet and ran out the door. Fortunately, I live about a five minutes' walk away from school. When I'm running, make that two minutes. I got to my office at 8:49am this morning and went straight to class, disheveled and slightly out of breath. My hope is that my students were too sleepy to notice...

That's the second time something like this has happened, and I really hope it's the last.

- - -

Anyway, I wanted to talk about how wonderful my students are. Chatting with them during mealtimes always makes my day. I make it a point to eat dinner with my students at least twice a week, and some of them have taken note of this apparently odd behavior. Typical foreign English teachers don't eat with the students, I've been told. But I believe that bonding over meals is one of the best way to build up a relationship, so I don't mind the stares or awkward silences.

I usually try to time it so that I arrive at the cafeteria at the same time as the third-year students, since I've known them the longest and enjoy talking with them. But sometimes I'll just pick a table at random and walk up with a cheerful, "Hi! May I sit with you?" I don't really wait for an answer, though. The poor students have no choice but to stop gossiping in Korean and start answering my questions in English. "How was your weekend?" "Can you explain what's happening on the cafeteria TV right now?" "What exactly are we eating, anyway?" Although I make it sound like they're the victims of my heinous schemes, actually, I believe it's a positive influence. First-year students in particular are always impressed, first with me for being so bold as to sit with them, and then with themselves when they realize that, yes, they are capable of holding a conversation with a native English speaker and it's not as painful as they'd imagined!

And I love it when students ask me questions, too: simple ones such as what my favorite Korean food is or if I enjoy K-pop, or more complex questions like why I have a Korean name on Facebook (which led to a great conversation about the meanings of names). Today, a student was eagerly telling me about a great movie he'd watched called Final Fantasy, about a group of teenagers on a plane who learn that they are going to crash... I finally realized that he was talking about Final Destination, and we had a good laugh.

I was taken aback and actually touched one evening, when two of my second-years actually left their table to join me and some shy underclassmen girls. They were simply eager to talk to me about my class: JH wanted to study more Greek and Latin roots, and WJ thanked me for giving them the opportunity to write in class journals, but wanted more time to do it. I was absolutely thrilled. The underclassmen were absolutely bewildered.

Later, the conversation turned to a favorite topic of high school girls: beauty. It started when WJ remarked that I looked better without glasses. (I was wearing contact lenses that day.) I told her I'd considered getting corrective eye surgery in Korea, and from there we began discussing cosmetic surgery. WJ said that she didn't want to get plastic surgery, but the societal pressure was really intense. Any girl who doesn't want double eyelids is mercilessly asked just why she doesn't want to undergo a harmless, painless, beautifying procedure. JH, on the other hand, was 100% sure that she wanted to get plastic surgery, perhaps as soon as she graduated from high school.

"I look in the mirror every day, and... I can't look at myself," she said jokingly, covering her face in her hands. JY, who had just joined us, jumped right in to what she perceived was a typical roundtable roasting session. "Yes, yes, you're ugly!" she said ro JH, completely deadpan.

I tried to tell JH that she looked just fine the way she was, that all of them were naturally beautiful and didn't need plastic surgery, but JH's mind wasn't going to be changed in an instant. So, I told them a story about how one of my favorite students from my first semester as a teacher (way back in the fall of 2012) wrote a stellar essay on beauty standards. WJ was bright and daring, and she had chosen the prompt: "Should movie stars and people who appear on TV have to get plastic surgery?"

In her essay, WJ wrote that when she was younger, she'd lamented her physical appearance. However, when she realized that her role models were people like Steve Jobs and Oprah Winfrey who became successful without any help from their looks, she changed her mind about the importance of beauty in her life. But here's the clincher: she also wrote, "If somebody does want plastic surgery, then they should get it in order to remove their fatal complex." BOOM. A young feminist Beyonce in the making, I swear.

Well, and then WJ went and got her eyelids doubled, just like most of the other girls in her year when they graduated and went off to college. I didn't leave out that part of the story, and JH and WJ had a laugh at the slight irony. Nevertheless, I don't want this to be the end of us discussing standards of beauty. I'm trying to find room in my curriculum this semester for a lesson on this topic for my second-years. I mean, my students have nicknames like Monkey, Egg, and Rice Grain, because these somehow capture the essence of their achievements and personalities in a friendly, pithy moniker. No, I'm totally kidding; they call her Egg because her face is shaped like one, and she doesn't even mind. I really want to get my students talking about this.

Beauty is not the easiest topic to bring up in a South Korean classroom, especially if you're a foreigner with a wildly different perspective. My friend Julia was interviewed in a piece by This American Life last year, where she shared a lesson she did with her high school girls and compared beauty standards in Korea and the US. For the sake of her students' understanding, she boiled it down to: physical appearance seems surprisingly important in Korea, but you know what? It's not like that everywhere. Also, you are all beautiful.

I enjoyed hearing about her experience and listening to the clips from her class. There was some criticism about her decision to present American beauty standards in similarly black-and-white terms, but I admire Julia's intent to approach the topic objectively and with enthusiasm. I'm going to take a look at the lesson I did last year and see what I should alter or update for this year.

Oh hey, looks like I drifted way out into tangential waters again, didn't I? The product of a wandering mind on a late night. Time for bed. And I'll have to make sure I don't sleep through my alarm again!

Reflect, don't expect

Expectations are resentments waiting to happen.
- Macklemore, Vipassana

When it comes to completely new experiences, my general rule of thumb is to go in with no expectations. That way, I can never be disappointed or surprised. However, when something is expected of me, I can't assume the same for the opposite party, and I'm sure not going to allow myself to disappoint or surprise anyone.

In this case, the expectation was that I would begin a semester of volunteering with the Changwon Hana Center by teaching a weekly after-school English class to a small group of North Korean defector children. I was given very little additional information: there would be six students of low English ability, and I would be given a classroom of my own.

That's what I had to work with when coming up with a first-day lesson plan. I took a quick look at ways to teach phonics and basic reading. I assumed that the students would be some of the adorable children I'd met at the opening ceremony a few weeks ago, and to be honest, I was excited at the prospect of seeing them again.

Well, there you go: that was an expectation, and it was quickly shattered. First, the students' carpool was nearly forty-five minutes late in getting to the center. Even though I arrived just past five, I still had a long time to get my bearings in the classroom, obtain some supplies, and think things through, because of another twist: the students were to be mostly middle schoolers, the Hana Center employee told me, and they already knew their alphabet. I went through my brain, trying to remember the faces of the middle school-aged children I'd met, but none came up. And when the students finally arrived, I realized that none of them had been at the opening ceremony, so they were all new to me.

I wasn't expecting that.

As it turns out, I had five students come today, and they are in five different grade levels, from third-year in middle school to first grade in elementary school. The youngest two could not read, and the eldest was a model student. The middle two had rudimentary reading skills but definitely did not evince any enthusiasm for being there. It was nearly 6pm when we began, and for an hour they kept telling me in Korean that they were hungry. So, the Hana Center employee brought a tray of convenience store cookies and soda along with the pens and markers I requested.

I wasn't expecting that.

Obviously, I knew (or expected) that the class would be different from my usual high-achieving angels at CSHS, but the realization that I would have to deal with 1) tweens 2) on a sugar rush 3) taking photos of me with their smartphones 4) or staring blankly at the board because they couldn't read anything I'd written 5) and actually teach them all something useful was...

Well, I was determined not to disappoint.

We went over self-introductions and I did some flashcard activities to gauge their reading and speaking levels. Though there was mild chaos in the beginning, eventually my students realized that there was value in what they were doing and focused for a good ten minutes. We ended with a free-for-all game of Pictionary, during which they were clearly more engaged. (Note to self: gamification)

And when class was over, the students had gone home, and I did a teaching reflection, I realized that these North Korean teenagers seemed no different whatsoever from your typical South Korean teenagers. Phones, fried chicken, fighting, fretting about boyfriends (the older students were all girls). I was only reminded of the reality twice: the eldest girl would burst out in Mandarin from time to time, but then quickly correct herself and repeat what she had wanted to say in Korean. (Speaking of which, none of them had any difficulties with speaking Korean.)

The second was when a student asked me, "Teacher, how [long] you come here?" I quickly taught the class how to ask, "How long have you been in Korea?" and told them that I'd been here for two years. The students crowed and one-upped me: "I have been in Korea for four years!" said the seventeen-year old. "Two and a half years," said her friend. "Five," whispered the quiet fourteen-year old in the back.

I had been advised against asking too many personal questions to my North Korean defector students, which is why I had left out "Where are you from?" from my list of introductory questions. But the eldest student had no qualms about sharing where she had lived before coming to South Korea four years ago. "I'm from China!" she said proudly.

I wasn't expecting that.

In conclusion, it's a good thing I only planned one lesson (and ended up deviating far from it anyway), because it would have been a colossal waste of time to work out an entire curriculum that would be useless for half the class. I had one hour to familiarize myself with my students and now have one week to tailor lesson two to their varying levels. Although I was flying by the seat of my pants today, next week should be smoother and much more fun, and I'm looking forward to it.

(Or is that another expectation?)

See the Nebula

My name is KDH. I like many things, especialy food. I really like eating, but my weight is not increase. Reading books is fun, too. Also I like to see the star. Exactely, not star because see the nebula is more fun.
- Excerpt from a student journal

It was 9pm and everything was dark. A single candle lit the room, revealing more shadows than light. It was only 9pm, but the darkness and warmth covered me like a blanket, and my body told me it was time to sleep.

"Wait, first I want to show you something," he said. "Let's go outside."

I wedged my feet into my shoes and shuffled out the door. It was even darker with the trees of the jungle surrounding us in every direction save one: when I looked up I gasped. Stars. Innumerable stars, twinkling against the deepest night sky. A silver shimmer of the Milky Way. I found Orion and saw his scabbard glow, but I could not find the Pleiades, seven bright sisters lost amongst a crowd of billions.

"I bet you've never seen anything like this in Korea," he said.

Tortion Yogurt

Happy Pi Day! 3.14. Of course, my students could recite it to the twelfth digit and more. Though they're all quite nerdy, they weren't as excited about Pi Day as they were about White Day, the Korean accompaniment to Valentine's Day. On February 14th, girls give chocolates to boyfriends; then, on March 14th, boys reciprocate and give candy (1). Friends also give candy to friends, and in general everyone in the country is just encouraged to buy unnecessary stuff for the commercial holiday.

Meh... I just really wanted to eat some pie.

Unrelated: a hilarious conversation in mixed Korean and English over dinner today with some teachers at my school.

짜요짜요 and 떡

Biology Teacher holds up a tube of yogurt, similar to Go-Gurt.
Biology Teacher: See this? The brand is called 짜요짜요 (2).
Me: Oh, really? That's Chinese.
Physics Teacher: Chinese? What does it mean in Chinese?
Me: 加油 (3). Um... 가유? 자유? (4)
Biology Teacher: It means 화이팅 (5)!
Me: Yeah, Chinese for 화이팅.
Physics Teacher: Oh! Well in Korean, it means... 짜요. 짜다... Like this: 짜요짜요짜요!
Physics Teacher picks up his tube of yogurt and squeezes it quickly and repeatedly in an unintentionally yet extremely suggestive way. I almost lose it.
Biology Teacher: 짜다. Squeeze.
Biology Teacher squeezes his tube of yogurt, and then wrings it with both hands like you would a wet towl.
Biology Teacher: This is squeeze. So... what is this?
Me: Oh, that's also squeeze.
Physics Teacher: No, that's tortion!

Conclusion: I eat at least one meal a day with the teachers at my school, but I have got to get them to talk more. Laughter will make you live longer.

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(1) And then on April 14th, Black Day, anyone who got nothing for the previous two holidays eats 짜장면, or black bean sauce noodles, alone. Forever alone.
(2) jjayo-jjayo
(3) jia1you3
(4) I meant to say "주유/add gasoline"
(5) "Fighting", Konglish for "You can do it!"