Christmas Concert

Dalton's first arts performance.  Click any image to expand.

 Spacious Dalton Hall

 My favorite flamboyant science teacher. 

'Tis the season for capes.  

 The phantom, revealed! 

Finale: faculty band, plus one student prodigy.  

We played both American and Korea rock songs.

Some great vocal harmonies and exagerrated melodrama.

Cuteness abounds.  

A fellow English teacher gave a stirring poetry recitation.

Why isn't the public performance of artful words 

(exempting plays and speeches) done more often?

Because of these videos' privacy policy, you must follow these links to hear / see the performances. Please notify me if they don't connect you. 

CDS WINTER CONCERT 2011 Cheongna Dalton School, Incheon Korea649.MOV

CDS WINTER CONCERT 2011 Cheongna Dalton School, Incheon Korea - Music Video!

CDS WINTER CONCERT 2011 Cheongna Dalton School, Incheon Korea667.MOV  

Busan Trip

Jessica and I took a trip to Busan, Korea's 2nd biggest city located in the south west corner.  It's featured attraction is the 3rd largest seaport in the world, and everything that comes with it.  Please visit Jessica's summary: it has all the best pictures.

http://rivoinkorea.blogspot.com/2011/11/busan-jalgachi-and-more.html

Cheers

Kay Ryan

If you haven't discovered the poet Kay Ryan (poet laureate from 2006-2008, I think?) allow me to discover her for you:

From the collection, "The Best of It"

This Life

It's a pickle, this life.

Even shut down to a trickle

it carries every kind of particle

which causes strife on a grander scale:

to be miniature is to be swallowed

by a miniature whale. Zeno knew

the law that we know: no matter

how carefully diminished, a race

can only be half finished with success;

then comes the endless halving of the rest--

the ribbon's stalled approach, the helpless

red-faced urgings of the coach.

Blandeur

If it please God,
let less happen.
Even out Earth's
rondure, flatten
Eiger, blanden
the Grand Canyon.
Make valleys slightly higher,
widen fissures
to arable land,
remand your
terrible glaciers
and silence
their calving,
halving or doubling
all geographical features
toward the mean.
Unlean against our hearts.
Withdraw your grandeur
from these parts.

Easter Island

It worked withouth
a hitch: the last
big head rolled
down the last logs
to its niche.
As planned,
a long chorus
of monoliths
had replaced
the forest, staring
seaward, nicely
spaced, each with
a generous collar
of greensward,
and prepared to
stand so long
that it would be
a good trade: life,
for the thing made. 

Photo Reel

The hallways of your typical Karaoke studio (small, intimate, private booths)

A tasteful photo from Ms. Jessica

An entire potato turned twisty-peel

Korean dishes are even more protein-centered than Americans'. How many species can you count on this plate?

A botanical garden, contained in a flower store.

Small vehicles obey no traffic laws; otherwise, the pedestrian-centered streets have a real charm, comparable to European promenades.

Just call me "Confucius the 2nd".  I could get used to this bowing practice...

Babe sponsors outside a baseball game. Not only has Korea adopted our sport, they've also adopted our team names. I count exactly 6 examples of "twins" in this photograph.

Walk in the Korean Park

A "traditional" Korean park, I was told.  Some parts are simply Zen, others feel like an Oriental miniature golf course: rolling greens with bizarre obstacles.

The shot below is what I meant by "Zen".  Long, winding, private stone-stepping trails, a common "motif" of public parks (this park had a small admission fee).  The stones force you to focus on your step, to pay attention to texture and form. Nothing puts you in the present faster than a hint of casual danger.

Have you ever seen a fountain like this before?

I'm a HUGE fan of the art style below; it can be found all over East Asia.  Consider the bonsai tree, a tree in miniature; below (I forget the style's name) is an entire mountain in miniature (you could say they "made a mountain out of a molehill," har har har).  But seriously: I love the idea of hypothetically having a mountain contained in your backyard, to both observe the world like a God and have bugs and birds magnified 1,000 fold.

Here was the "mini-golf" section I mentioned.

And to close the day: a traditional Korean meal.  Pity the dishwasher.

Muchos Musings

I sampled a simple but compelling Korean speaking game. Two teams of two; one team confers, then poses the other team a difficult preference choice: “Rat or cockroach?”  They then count 3, 2, 1  and the other team must simultaneously respond.  The responding team gets a point if they answered the same way.

         There is an American version of this game (if you can call it a game): individuals take turns generating the preference question, then all the other participants individually take turns answering the question. 

         The purpose of both games is to reveal things about their participants.  Additionally, the purpose of the Korean game is to see which team has the most harmony, accord, agreement. The additional purpose of the American game is to have each person argue why their position is justified, which, more often than not, becomes an argumentative contest for which answer is best. I have never witnessed the alternate version in either country.

         Both games generate laughs, but the Korean displays of the game are downright joyous, whereas the American format leads to scorn just as often ("You would rather be a poacher than be a vegetarian?! How could you!")  Perhaps the American game generates more insight and formal reasoning...  But is that insight worth a life of less laughter?

In many ways, my Hangaram teenagers are the healthiest, best adjusted young people I’ve ever encountered.  But about that word, “adjusted”:  I’ve spoken to several Korean twenty-somethings who claim their “adolescent rebellion” (their word choice)  did not happen until their late 20's, when they visited America or spent time overseas (Korea is proving to me that "adolescent rebellion" as a necessary stage is as great a myth as "mid life crisis"). Is it possible that Korean students (who are often described by my principal as “innocent” compared to American teens their age) are not required to “adjust” in some fundamental way Americans are asked to?  …And perhaps that is preferable?  In spite of some stereotypes, I find no deficiency in my students’ creativity or critical thinking; many of them demonstrate healthy skepticism time and again, all while wearing that genuine, considerate smile. As for their innocence, I’m working on it: we’re reading a novel about impotent, nihilistic, and amoral superheroes, debating the legality of prostitution, abortion ethics…

       Perhaps due to the milieu of Freud in my upbringing, I’m dumbstruck that my students don’t demonstrate more signs of "everyday neuroses;" I once thought there was a certain quota of mental imbalance any substantial cohort eventually betrays.  But if those neuroses in my students are hidden, or repressed, it’s buried deeper than my shovel can dig.

What could culturally account for this?  My mind turns to Eric Fromm's "Escape from Freedom":  perhaps it is only with freedom, the unbearable consciousness of unlimited choice in work and relationships (and the inevitable confusions that result from those choices), that these stereotypical adolecent neuroses form; perhaps depression comes primarily through comparing your life as it is with how it could be.  Because of their grossly crammed schedules, my students do not have the time to consider other lives for themselves; some don't even have the capacity, due to lack of world exposure (during school breaks, they do not see the world via internships, summer camps, or travel).  More generally speaking, they don't have time to think about themselves at all (a guaranteed cure for depression, unless the grades which do receive focus begin to fall).  As for relationships, two attitudes are universal: "Who has time for sex/romance?" and "We know how families and friends are supposed to behave."  Social scripts are stronger and more prevalent across the board (remember, my name is "Teacher," not Marnell).  This clarity yields security, and I'm beginning to think this is beneficial for teenagers, especially if it creates respect for adults and, by extension, education of all kinds. 

To repeat: what astounds me is that the moment I ask for original thinking from students, I receive it in torrents.  My students are exceptionally creative, and can be scathingly critical so long as their criticism does not have to be made public (though they are willing to share in small groups). Another peculiarity: my students are uncomfortable around the opposite sex (there is no mingling at lunch or in class); I suspect this results from the asexual culture at school (drab, concealing uniforms, no school dances, no health class).  But I would argue the asexual environment dramatically reduces the extremes of gender behavior which causes the majority of adolescent social scarring (it's no surprise that male hierarchical competition and female slandering is diminished in an asexual environment; when we consider the painful tolls of these tendencies, can we say the benefits of a sexual environment-- relationships, maturation-- are really worth it?).    

This all leads me to wonder: are there any flaws with this conservative system besides the over-emphasis on standardized tests and the inhumane work loads?  And is it possible to adjust those flaws while retaining the system's virtues? 

 

A Tribute

to Korean Drive, Tech-Savviness, Subways and Department Stores

(Homeplus happens to be our favorite)

How to Hand-Spin 16,000 Honey Strings in 2 Minutes

While this is not my video, it's very representative of dessert vendors on Seoul streets.  They are, undoubtedly, the most charismatic professional class I've encountered in Korea. There is no close second place (Granted, the vendors cater to tourists, and I don't sample the English of many other professions. Also, my colleagues don't count!)    

Smiley Face Words

Found in the last batch of student papers (note: they have a 6th grade writing ability, 8th grade vocabulary, and senior level conceptual ability).

Clinquant - imitation gold leaf
Poltroonery - extreme cowardice
contumelious - abusive

I've never seen any of these words before, but upon reference, they were used perfectly. "To put it another way: they first struck me as mere clinquant, but turned out to have substance." Who knows what obscure thesaurus they dug these out of...  

Musing Morsels

Sugar: the insidious, deathly ingredient that finds its way into all our food: every condiment, every drink, every supposedly benign carb... I'm beginning to think Salt is Korea's Sugar. It is in every condiment, laced with every meat (a Big Mac gives you 66% of daily sodium, but Korean meat still tastes saltier...), sprinkled on many carbs ala pretzels, and to top it off, Korean dining tables often have little salt-dipping squares (faster and more generous delivery than a shaker, note).



^The bottom middle dish is more or less pure salt.

Some noted acts of kindness: as I began to commute home, I noted heavy rain. I asked my principle where I could buy an umbrella. He told me to take his own, and pre-emptively refused to take it back. I lent ten cents to a student (not one of my own) to buy a snack; 3 days later he comes to my classroom to personally return the "debt." I hand a student a grade of 0-with-redo-potential on account of plagiarism; when he returns to his table, some friends snicker at him. After class, one of the friends inexplicably approaches my desk and assures me the laughter was not directed at my punishment, only at the slacker's plight (!)  I noticed my favorite drinks and snacks becoming more frequent at the faculty lounge; my mentor later told me that the admin noted my favorites and adjusted their purchases accordingly (!)

After school lunch, Korean students brush their teeth in the bathroom; it's a large social event. A reflection of their organization, sense of responsibility, and the boarding school feel of Hangaram.

Korean students and teachers wear sneakers and loafers on their commute, but when they arrive at school, they all switch to slippers and flip flops, storing their commute shoes in massive closets by the front door. This accords with the practice of taking off shoes before entering a home.

                                            ^ Students, complete with shoes.

When material conditions of a society change faster than appropriate attitudes, there is always some tragedy, major or minor. The parents of my students grew up in the aftermath of devastating wars; it was demanded that they study and professionalize themselves ASAP for the sake of security. Even though that world no longer exists, my students receive the same message, hence their 12 hour school days and absence of "a life," as a U.S. peer would undoubtedly jeer.

But here's the worst part: students are given practically zero time to pursue their own interests, and this goes beyond extracurriculars: I'm talking things we take for granted as inalienable rights, like web surfing one's favorite topics a few minutes a day, basic social media, seeing a movie every couple of weeks... Students study during the summers such that they have no time for internships, camps or travel abroad. This is all to enter a prestigious college. Ironically, the tragedy of all this prep strikes hardest when they enter college: from day one, they must commit to a professional track, and it is extremely difficult and frowned upon to switch from that track for any reason. Now, unless their vocational passion is 1) purely academic and 2) covered by their narrow high school curriculum, I have no idea what experience prepares those students to choose. This all corresponds to the prevalent practice of young people following the career path of their parents (even more security!). But even in undesired jobs, God knows the kids will work hard: 18 years of engrained ethos is enough momentum to last a short lifetime.        

Thanks for reading! 

Shuttlecock Update

The work ethic here is so tremendous, repeatedly exceeding expectations. It is routine for students, administrators, and teachers alike to stay on the Hangaram campus from 7-7, with prep / home work filling the hours afterwards.  I routinely ask students what they did over the weekend, and the answer is always the same (seeing as they take their tests on Saturdays, it partially goes without saying).  In America, if someone were to live in this fashion, they would be mocked as "having no life"  (no individualized life, anyhow).  I doubt students here would comprehend such criticism: people can be comfortable with most any condition if they consider it the norm.  How am I affecting students' self-perception when I report that Americans never go to school on the weekends, and play sports and music every day if they choose?

A possible hint at Confucian social divisions? :  teachers have a separate bathroom from buildings and grounds personnel (noted in two schools).  I'm still scratching my head over this.  

I'm teaching my kids ethics (they're all filthy, anglophilic utilitarians at this point, but that will change) in conjunction with "The Watchmen," a comic book graphic novel featuring retired, publicly rejected masked crime fighters, an alternate 1980's cold war, and several morally dubious plots to save humanity from itself (plots to destroy humanity are monopolized by the national superpowers and the general sleaze / grime perceived by the "heroes").  It is a fantastic story and, like most of my favorite modern stories, centers around existential crises in a godless universe.  (Making xerox copies for 60 students and preparing for the parent reaction to mild-but-illustrated violence / sexuality, not so fantastic.)  

Played badminton with some Hangaram faculty, and basketball with students.  Everyone's exceedingly polite.  The students pass constantly and do not keep score, while the adults not only keep score but place small wagers on their own matches (what happened?)  Badminton is 2 v 2 and exceedingly fast; and you would laugh to see me standing near the net, the shuttlecock whizzing past me this time to the left, this time to the right, but no matter: my partner covers the entire court, compensating my every whiff. It was no less impressive to me than a tennis partner covering an entire doubles court by himself, and winning.  

Some intense badminton (professionals):  

I can hold my own only when I take overheads in the back, since it's comparable to tennis. I'm coming along.  

Vignettes: Part One of Many

Over the weekend, I had a divine dinner at a traditional Korean place (meaning they served savory charcoal-grilled eel that one wraps in mint leaves and garnishes with any of the following: ginger, jalapeno, raw chunks of garlic, sprouts, peppers, dried sardines, curry, soy, chutneys... because everything is communal, a meal for 8 people will result in roughly 45 dishes. And these 45 dishes do not trickle in; the waiters literally deliver the table to you, with all ingredients included (aside from the meat, which arrives in intervals and is consistently hot off the grill).   

Tied with the food for highlight was the backdrop of the meal.  In the near distance, viewed through two layers of barbed wire fence and a few bunkers, was North Korea.  We had driven along a dividing river during our approach, and in those 30 minutes the only sign of life the opposite coast displayed was a single military truck. A few towns with whitewashed walls could be seen, but no smoke from chimneys, no lights, no commerce. Perhaps it was one of the "prop cities" we have read about, ghost towns for saving face and simulating development?  As the psychological track records of the Norwegian Breivik and U.S. school shooters demonstrate, it's the isolated, ultimate losers who are amongst the most dangerous agents, and I oscillated between fear and sorrow while beholding those mountains, a convenient screen for the wilderness lying on the other side.  My colleagues and I resorted to the strategy of those uneasy in the face of the uncontrollable: we made fun. We joked how our barbecue smoke must be wafting across the river and tantalizing the starving peasants; we imagined that lone truck as being a cardboard cut out with 4 fast runners propping it up. The laughter was a little too hard. 

((For an astonishing essay on the motives and rational of "ultimate losers," an article from a German column Der Spiegel:  http://www.signandsight.com/features/493.html  )) 

        

There's Hope Yet

I have frequent existential anxiety: What am I giving these kids?  What can I even hope to give?  (The anxiety redoubles when I engage a thought experiment: what knowledge has been truly valuable to me... and did it come from a classroom?)

These anxieties will likely stick around forever, in one form or another.  I doubt the value of school very much in most respects besides 1) opportunities for kids to socialize and 2) a daycare system for parents.  It's other supposed uses-- transmission of content, teaching "how to think," cultural reproduction / criticism, extracurricular exposure-- are all accomplished better through more immediate exposure to the world and an environment where the ultimate ends are not subservient to college admission boards.  But such a world will likely never exist, so I do my best to save the system from itself and, to the best extent possible, give kids "education": the capacity to hold problems before the mind and not run away scared, and the (cultivated) intrinsic motivation to learn.   

But there must be content, and hence anxiety.  It's immensely reassuring how, working in Korea,  my process and delivery are educational on their own. They are rarely asked to think for themselves, to articulate opinions beyond "What's the main idea of the text?", to work together to solve problems of their own creation.  They have not heard fluent English beyond mass media (it is wonderful to know that, just be conversing with them, they are practicing a vital skill). These qualities of mine, and many habits / idiosyncrasies of which I'm doubtless unaware, they find highly amusing. Being their first white or American teacher, I'm a viewed as an exotic privilege.  And they are a privilege for me: they are diligent to a fault, and so conscientious that whenever I lapse in management or explication of rules, they anticipate what I need and gently advise me or self-adjust. Every day, four or five students will rush up to me, nervously say "Hello Teacher," and after my reply run away, giggling and proud. Did I mention these were 16 year olds?  It's never been easier to make teenagers happy.

(Notice how, even with students who know my name, I will always be "Teacher;" this standard subtly reinforces the hierarchical, social compartmentalization (Confucianism) on which Korea is built, albeit slightly less with every passing, globalizing day).   

Student's English skill set is as follows (best to worst): 

Reading  --  beyond average American highschooler in some respects (academic language)

Writing   --  conceptually outstanding, grammatically at a 6th grade level 

Listening  --  OK if you speak slow, stay in present tense, and avoid idioms, etc.  

Speaking   --  shy and unpracticed. Korean speaking inflection is opposite ours, so their English speech comes off as weak, tentative;  English speakers, hearing this, respond accordingly (becoming more assertive or patronizingly speaking to them like fluffy lambs).  Seeing as they ARE tentative to be speaking in the first place, this reinforces their fears, and the feedback loop quickly discourages them from practicing at all... among other problems.  

Every ounce of teacher training I've received (and my collegiate experience / personal inclination) has put supreme value on dialogue: knowledge is acquired individually, but for it to stick and grow, it must be socialized, examined; the clay of opinion must go through the fires of diverse group judgement before becoming a refined instrument... or something like that. (Of course, like most passionate assertions, this is my own experience projected into a general rule).  But dialogue is the hardest challenge for my students. There are 4 main ways around this: 

• I do most of the talking
• The students converse through writing      
• The students do individual work (which tends to resemble HW, only done in class) 
• The students work while conversing in Korean, which I cannot understand. 

So far, I've tried a little of all of these, but I'm favoring the latter, accompanied by an English writing product, for a small grade.  I've let loose a few lectures, mostly justifying why we're doing what we're doing (assignments which lack definitive "answers" bestowed by teacher is nerve-wracking to them and, in the minds of some, trivial).

I could ramble about the history, morals, and values these students come from (and in future posts I will, tangentially at least), but these can be found in one short, comprehensive, and delightful book: "Confucius Meets Piaget" by Jonathan Borden.  It's the best description of Korean culture I've found (and not just the education aspect). There are some copies on Amazon, though due to ceased publication they're expensive ($20.00)  *Supplies are limited! Order NOW!*

In trying to understand my students' reaction to my class, I imagine being thrown into their school system as a 16 year old.  Distressing, for sure, but temperamentally I would have benefitted from the organizational demands, the rigor, the discipline, the listening skills (from teacher lectures, that is). But of course that's what I needed: my school had a converse philosophy. So it hits me: just like 99% of parents, no school can be ideal, because they necessarily have some strengths and not others and hence neglect certain lessons (and really, do any set of lessons, even subtle, cultural, unspoken lessons, require 7 years to inculcate? And, lest we take the value of diverse, complimentary exposure for granted, can we deny that a harsh Catholic school would have certain benefits even if, with long term exposure, they wouldn't be worth the costs?)  Teachers may differ within a school, but the school philosophy does the hiring, and with time influences and trumps all but the iconoclasts. Hence I believe students can't receive a "well rounded education" within any one modestly-sized institution, necessarily.  But institutions cannot, and should not, transform themselves on a regular basis, and practically speaking, what family (or student with a social network) wants to change institutions?  The best option, it seems, is recruiting teachers who, being fresh off the boat (or airplane), have a truly different set of lessons, who are largely free of a school's constraints, ideology and history.

And that feels pretty good.  

The narrowing gyre

At the risk of melodrama, nothing describes my inner state better than some classic lines of Yeats:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world... 

Due to somewhat sparse enrollment at Cheongna Dalton, on the one hand, and a small but tight network of schools affiliated with Dalton on the other, I have been placed to teach at a high school in Seoul. It is called Hangaram high school, a parent school of Dalton. (I would provide the link, but it is only in Korean). 

The consequent dizziness (er, gyre) I've felt can be likened to a small mammal strapped to a turntable, which is laid in a Disney World tea cup ride, which is spinning in a giant tilt-a-whorl. An overview of defied expectations:

Dalton is private and international (all English speaking, including school websites, assemblies, faculty meetings...); Hangaram is public and very much Korean (I am the only fluent English   speaker across all faculty / administration). 
Dalton is progressive by any educational standard (in accordance with Columbia training).       Hangaram is progressive only by Korean standards.    
Dalton campus is where I live; Hangaram is roughly a 75 min commute by car / train 
Dalton responsibility: about 30 students.  Hangaram: 60 students. 
Dalton curriculum, planned over the summer: English Language Arts, grades 7 and 8.              Hangaram curriculum, planned last night: English as Second Language, grade 11.  
I remind myself that a certain instability is inherent to international travel (isn't that part of the reason people respect those who do it?) 

For some time, there has been no phone and minimal internet; furnishings and accommodations (washer/dryer, exercise facilities), while generous and first class, have been late to arrive, as the school is    being built up all at once. With construction in every cranny, a whole new job description, and the      inevitable lost-in-translation moments throughout my day to day, there are times when I can physically feel the spinning of the earth. It is with great pleasure that I sit still at this computer, in the dead silence of my room, overlooking the broad marshes of the campus' north side.    

The management, facilities, and (above all) faculty of Dalton are extraordinary; I cannot overstate the sense of loss I feel on my daily commute to Seoul. But I'm grateful to still see them on a daily basis, most mornings and evenings.  With luck they will be my colleagues come January. 

Hangaram has presented some predictable but powerful challenges; rest assured they will be reported in due time. I will try my best to post to this blog on a weekly or twice weekly basis. Please say high to the U.S. for me.