TEACHER'S NOTES: Eau-de-Pig-Shit

Some people have requested that I write more about my in-classroom teaching experiences, so here it goes…It is a long one!

I have been putting in “overtime” hours at two tiny country schools for two weeks now. These elementary schools are literally in the middle of nowhere, but are well-maintained and apparently well-funded. The buildings are bright, clean, and conducive to childhood learning. The property has a school garden and a rabbit hutch which they are responsible for tending. My first elementary school has only 78 students total, and the second has about 80.

No one is rich in the agriculture center of Korea, and it is here that the status of “developing country” can be palpably felt. South Korea is not a “third-world country,” but a “second world” (i.e. like Italy). There are subtle signs of near-poverty among the students, although no one is starving – far from it! Some of the children, however, are a little too “fragrant,” some appear to have minor health problems, most noticeably runny eyes, and some of them have unwashed clothes. Although in the minority, those students do stand out. The classes have anywhere from ten to fifteen students, which is usually quite manageable.

In the mornings, a driver in a mini-van picks up me, another teacher, and two assistants. We then wind our way though endless rice fields, hamlets, and pig farms. As we exit the van, the unmistakable scent of “eau-de-pig-shit” wafts in the breeze. The school yard is damp this morning from two days of thunderstorms, and the ruddy thick mud clings to our shoes. We slip of our shoes immediately as we enter the building and temporarily place them on the industrial rug. We pad over in our socks to a row of foot lockers about three across and five high. Inside each locker is a pair of black rubber slippers, which my Korean assistant laughingly called “ajushi slippers.” They are typically worn by older men in real life (ajushi means married man) and are ridiculously large for us to wear. I fall out of them several times as I get used to balancing on this odd-looking footwear, and my heel easily slips out the back of the backless shoes and I teeter precariously on the inch high soles. We place our street shoes in the numbered lockers, and move into the teacher’s lounge.

Today is my second time in the school. I teach a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth grade class for 40 minutes each. There are ten minute breaks between the classes. This morning, there is a change. I am ushered into the principal’s office. I did not meet him last week, as he was not on campus. He is a weathered, middle-aged, and soft-spoken gentleman, dressed in a slightly ill-fitting grey suit. He appeared to be very nervous and uncomfortable. He bashfully explained, through an interpreter, that he did not speak English at all. He had tried to learn by using language tapes, but had by and large failed to grasp it. This is not at all surprising, as I will explain later. His assistant brought my assistant and me a cup and saucer of green tea. The china was very nice, not the usual Dixie cup for everyday use. He did not seem to know what to say to me, and kept clenching and unclenching his hands. It is my custom to try and “draw out” shy people, but I failed in this instance. Awkward silence prevailed. TICK….TICK…TICK…

Through my interpreter, he ventured that it was very difficult to find native English speakers who were willing to come out to the country. He himself commuted from Mokpo, a reasonably sized country town about 40 km away. I assured him that I didn’t mind the country, as I grew up in a small town only renowned for strawberries. I mentioned that my hometown was next to the ocean, but that I didn’t care for seafood. My interpreter fell silent, and seemed reluctant to translate what I had said, other than “strawberry” (in Korean).

TICK…TICK…TICK…I made a few abortive attempts at conversation to put him at ease, but my recalcitrant interpreter did not bother to translate my small talk. I know she understood me, because I have had a regular English conversation with her before, so I can only surmise that I broke some unwritten social rule, though it absolutely eludes me as to what. I was as gentle, non-aggressive, and polite as I could be. I bowed and shook hands on the way out (as I have seen Korean business people do many times), which seemed to fluster the principal. He was probably relieved to see me go!

I went to my third grade class, and learned very quickly what I was up against. Korean education is taught solely by rote – memorization, repetition, and endless copying. Although my student’s knew the “ABC Song,” it became clear that they did not realize each letter stood for a SOUND. They gladly aped and repeated everything I said, even copying my vocal patterns, but there was no understanding behind the words. I tried to teach them the names of countries (the unit being “Where are you from?”) but they could not string words together and form sentences other than through repeating the sounds I made. My assistant helpfully (and perhaps sarcastically?) pointed out this problem, saying that it was “too difficult” for them. Well, duh, of course it is! You can’t run before you can crawl, but that is exactly what the Korean “English curriculum” demands. I was instructed to follow the chapters, though I do not have to use the book as written. Thank goodness for that.

The Korean “English curriculum” is a big, fat joke, and reminds me very much of the “whole language learning” craze in California public school during the 1980s. My grandmother, who was a teacher, almost resigned over these ridiculous methods, which ultimately lead to thousands of high school students in the late 90s who could barely read or write a sentence!

I call this sort of learning the “Professor Harold Hill School of Education.” For those of you who don’t know, this refers to the swindler character in the musical THE MUSIC MAN. “Whole language” threw out the idea of teaching phonics and grammar, with the basic premise that children learn language from being surrounded by it, listening to native speakers, and using their own “learning intuition.” There is no question that some of this is valid – young children learn by imitation. But the human mind needs patterns and discipline as well – in English, this means grammar and phonics. Whole language learning tacitly assumes that the child is surrounded by native English speakers, which in California is seldom true! The children learned the odd and incorrect English from their non-native parents, leading to confusion, frustration, and disintegration of language structure.

There is a prevailing though in Korean educators that “Gee, if we hire native English speakers to teach our children, they will speak better and pass more tests. But let’s not change the curriculum. Maybe the native speaker can, though magic osmosis, repeat words, play new games, and explain the rules of English grammar. We don’t need to hire credentialed teachers, can’t pay ‘em much anyway. We will just take any native speaker with a B.A. or B.S. who is blond, has blue eyes, is reasonably attractive, and hope our children will learn though exposure to pretty people!” I am exaggerating of course, but not by much. Teachers in Korea are the highest paid in the world – young men are told by their parents that the best wife is 2) a teacher, and 1) a pretty teacher! Along with the money grubbers are dedicated teachers who are sincerely interested in their students’ well-fare. The schools, as I said, are well-funded by the government.

“Well, back to the drawing board,’ I sighed to myself after a full day of failed lessons based off of the Korean curriculum. The students are, for all intents and purposes, rank beginners, although a few have studied for almost two years. When I tactfully asked their teachers about this, they said, “Well, they are country students,” as if that is an answer! They cannot read or write; they understand a little of what you say but cannot answer direct questions. I was very saddened by this development; I sincerely wish these children to learn and enjoy learning English. Rote repetition is not going to do this.

I tried to pick the brains of the homeroom teachers as to what they wanted me to do to supplement their teaching, but all I got was indifferent shrugs. No one seems to know where to start, myself included. I asked if they had taught any phonics – blank stares. Any writing? A rueful head shake “No.” Reading? No. ABCs? Bright smile “ABC Song!”

I ended my day on a high note - one of my sixth grade classes (nine boys, one girl!) is lively, easily engaged, and approaching “low intermediate” level. In full rebellion against the Korean textbook, I taught MY way. I got all of those rowdy boys on their feet, clapping out tongue twisters (Andy ran from the Andes to the Indies in his undies), doing the “North South East West” dance, and moving about the room. I got through left/right, ordinals, “where?” prepositions, and pronunciation all in 40 minutes. I did the letter “A” in the lower classes, having them write and trace the letter and name off words.

The lower grades have some discipline issues; they cannot understand me so they try to do what they want. The students spend long periods of time unsupervised; if there is a staff meeting, for example, the students are left to their own devices. One of the classes today was apparently without a teacher for the day – I came in and discovered they had all made origami flowers. At least they were creative rather than destructive. Several classrooms today were devoid of teachers, and I wonder if this is a regular occurrence.

I have instilled my own rudimentary discipline on the students, but I am afraid it backfired on me. One boy said something nasty to a girl and she began to cry, so I sent him to the corner with his hands braced against the wall above his head (a common Korean punishment). After a time, I made him apologize to her, but then belatedly remembered that a)Koreans never apologize (to admit wrong in a country continuously occupied could get you killed!) and b) the student did not know the meaning of the words he said, ‘I’m sorry.” I will have to rethink my classroom management style, as it does not apply if the children do not understand you!

After my day was over, I found myself in a blue mood. Not only had almost every lesson plan failed, my assistant (who is a grad student at my university) had felt moved to point this out. She was also very amused at my reaction to lunch – octopus tentacle soup, but to me it was no laughing matter. Yes, I did eat some – tastes like chicken gristle, but with purple tentacles attached! I am playing a game with rules I haven’t been given. Even though it is not my “main job,” I am compelled to make these children succeed. There teachers don’t appear to have any faith in them. I want to see their happy faces brighten up with understanding, not crumple up blank and confused like today. Korean children have unusually expressive faces…

Still depressed, I went home and took a nap. I woke up refreshed and formed my resolve. I am going to focus on phonics and writing from now on, none of this silly empty conversation crap. Even if I have to build language letter by letter and sound by sound, I will do it. My goal is to have them speaking sentences by the end of the semester AND UNDERSTANDING EACH WORD in those sentences.

Accordingly, this evening I went to the bookstore, and browsed their textbook section. I bought, out of my own money, a textbook on phonics and a basic sentence building-based primer. I will use these tools as a basis for writing, vocabulary building, and reading comprehension. As much as possible, I will keep to the themes of the Korean textbooks, if not the content or structure, but I will not go out of my way to do so if I feel they are not ready for it.

You have to crawl before you can walk, and you have to walk before you can run. Out of adversity comes experience, out of experience comes character, and out of character comes success!

JOURNAL: Confessions of a Madwoman

I returned to Korea on February 27th after a long and relatively uneventful flight. I was very sad to leave the US again, and I considered not returning to the mess over here at all. So what stopped me? Well, here are my reasons:

1) Even though I have been ripped off, lied to, and placed in housing not fit for human habitation, I have decided not to play the game. I will uphold my word of honor, something I do not give lightly, even though the university has not kept strictly within the bounds of my contract. I will "let my 'yes' be my 'yes' and my 'no' be my 'no.'" Call me a fool, but honor is more important to me.

2) With the above said, the new administration, at our level at least, is trying to make necessary changes. Altough the powers-that-be flat out refused to let me move out and choose my own apartment, they did agreee to let me move to another apartment within the same building. The new head of the department has lived in the USA and has a decidedly Western attitude towards management, but he also recognizes that we have to deal with "Korean efficiency." He appears to be willing to be transparent with what is going on "upstairs."

3) This is an excellent resume builder. I would ideally like to work as a corporate trainer, teaching writing, speaking, and even ESL to employees of a large company. I know such positions exist, but I am a bit at a loss for where and how to obtain this sort of position. Any help would be appreciated...

4) I enjoy teaching the classes. The students are reasonably motivated, and I have learned quite a bit about teaching this year. I have always been creative, and this postition has truly allowed me to grow in wisdom and knowledge.

On a lighter note, Here is what occured when I came back to Korea:

It was 10:00 pm by the time I arrived in Byengjeom. The drunks were out in full force by then, and the taxi driver had difficulty passing through the street without mowing them down. I had two large bags on wheels, a hiking backpack, and a laptop bag with me - a heavy load by anyone's standards. Slick Willie (the liason) positively assured me via email that my apartment would be moved by the time I returned and that the apartment manager would leave the key in the mailbox for me. I should have known better and stayed in a hotel.

Needless to say, the key was NOT in the mailbox, and my cellphone was out of minutes because they time out from disuse over a certain period of time.

"Well," as I reasoned it, "as of last week the apartment had not yet been moved; maybe they forgot."

I decided to go to my old apartment in the same building and try the key. Lugging my baggage with me, I took the elevator to the fifth floor. I put my key in the lock and the door opened...sort of. The door handle had been taped at one end and anchored with more tape to a point inside the apartment like a makeshift "latch." I then noticed that the entrance way, what little I could see of it, contained clutter that was decidedly NOT mine. As I stood there, flabbergasted, a timid and frightened female voice inquired, "Aneong haseyo?"

"Errmm...hello? This is my apartment!" was all I could think of to say.

I tried to talk to the new occupant, but she was clearly frightened and shut the door firmly. That was when I lost it. I tried to roll my suitcases back to the elevator, but the largest one broke. Lack of sleep for 24 hours, the ridiculous situation I was in, and the inability to form a coherent thought finally overcame my good senses. Stomping, cursing, crying, and muttering like an idiot "but this is MY apartment! What do I do now? &^%$, &*!@, *&^%," I dragged the now defunct suitcase angrily back down the hall. As I moved away from my apparently "ex" apartment, I heard the new occupant sliding furniture against the door, and I added giggling to the mix. I could see the situation from her point of view very clearly - crazy American woman, probably drunk, a kidnapper still on the loose, and late at night to boot!

I left my luggage outside my new apartment (I hoped), and braved the drunk men to go into town to use the payphone. Naturally, they were all hanging around the phone booths, and were in a particularly frisky and jocular mood. I haughtily brushed passed them, startling some very alarmed street cats, who had been placidly munching on scraps from the impromptu and very ripe garbage pile next to the payphones. This proved to be an excellent, if unintentional, plan of action, as one of the oglers was sufficiently distracted to chase the fleeing cats under the cars. Koreans generally hate cats. This bought me enough time to make my call.

I angrily upbraided Slick Willie for not upholding his end of the deal, and he called the apartment manager. When I called him back a bit later, he said the manager was already on his way; aparently the manager had gotten a phone call from the very frightened new occupant! I got my keys.

The apartment manager refused the gift I brought from California to thank him for his trouble in moving all my belongings, and I can't say I blame him. It wasn't the usual "first refusal" Koreans give when offerd a gift, either. He was very annoyed, and I wonder if Slick Willie ever even told him about leaving the key in the mailbox.

I more or less made peace with Mr. Kim the next day, but kept the gift (Sees Candies) for myself!

My Internet still doesn't work, but the other appliances seem in fine order. Of course, the apartment was NOT cleaned; in fact there were old cigarette butts in the sink (eww!). But I will make like a Korean - wisk out my cleaning tools, and DEAL WITH IT!