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.