I am a Bad Foreigner.
Today, toward the end of the day, my CT innocently asked if I were busy on the 26th and 27th of the month. The days of that English camp that fall right in the middle of my contract-guaranteed and education office-specified vacation. Was I busy on either or both of those days? Oh, she and the other Korean English teacher could run the camp no problem, but the students, you see, were expecting a foreigner.
When I said that I might be able to help out on the 26th (since I was leaving for vacation on the 27th), she mentioned that (oops) they couldn't pay me. Had we not had that previous "misunderstanding" about the English camp, then she would have been able to budget some salary for me. No obligation here, but could I work a little bit extra for free-- for the kiddies? They would appreciate my presence.
Really? After you already said no, I did not have to do this? After I'd reluctantly CHANGED my PLANE TICKETS to accomodate this unreasonable "request"? You said no, absolutely, I did not have to do it. Now you say, could I please do it, but for no money? Are you trying to punish me? Give me one more chance to redeem myself by submitting to an even less reasonable request? Was this a message about what happens to employees who say "no" the first time they are "asked" to do something?
Feeling manipulated, I said "no." Maybe I just failed another unspoken cultural test, but I'm pretty damn sure that I would NOT have gotten any extra pay for working a day or two during my vacation, had I agreed to do so the first time the subject arose. It's not my responsibility that she and another teacher scheduled the school's English camp during my vacation time and told me about this after I'd made reservations. She didn't push the issue.
I would not be surprised, however, if I get a call closer to the 26th asking if I might just, er, visit the school that day. For an hour or three. No pressure.
This incident triggers anxieties about how Korean employment works, particularly for foreign teachers. We rarely see evaluations of our performance. We are offered (or not offered) contract renewals without knowing why. We don't hear about little (or big) ways we've offended our coworkers or superiors until it's too late. (To be fair, this sort of thing happens in American workplaces too. It's just more frequent here, partly due to cultural differences and Korean non-confrontational, face-saving interaction styles).
I hope this refusal does not lead to unpleasant consequences. I cannot control how my supervisors choose to interpret it. I do not, however, work for free.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Third-person singular androgynous, Third-person singular ambivalent
Friday, a co-teacher and I gave a demo class. At least ten parents attended, mostly mothers. The lesson title was "who is she?" In one activity, two students started at opposite ends of a row of picture cards and made sentences using gendered pronouns.
Examples: He is my grandfather. She is my sister.
I designed this activity specifically to address Korean speakers' tendency to refer to everyone as "she," which can baffle, amuse or even enrage English speakers.
I felt hypocritical emphasizing the importance of using appropriate gendered pronouns since: (1) I do not believe in a rigid gender binary; (2) I personally identify somewhere between masculine and feminine.
Also, my teaching this grammar point was ironic since at least some of my students do not believe that I am female. I've heard them asking my co-teachers (in Korean) and audibly disbelieving the answer. For that matter, Korean adults have asked me point-blank whether I was male or female. One older woman in a bank even tried to touch my breast to check for herself.
Later that day, I needed to use the restroom and approached a public women's restroom. A female custodian said (in Korean), "No! The MEN'S room is over there." I shrugged and used the men's room. (Note: I was wearing tan khaki pants, a blue button-down shirt, and sparkly blue nail polish at the time.)
Honestly, I wish I could avoid gender altogether. That's not possible, especially in Korea. Women and girls are much girlier here than they are in the U.S. They wear lots of make-up, climb mountains in stiletto heels, and cover their mouths when they laugh. One does encounter butch-looking girls now and then, however. I wonder what kind of feedback they get about their gender performance.
Examples: He is my grandfather. She is my sister.
I designed this activity specifically to address Korean speakers' tendency to refer to everyone as "she," which can baffle, amuse or even enrage English speakers.
I felt hypocritical emphasizing the importance of using appropriate gendered pronouns since: (1) I do not believe in a rigid gender binary; (2) I personally identify somewhere between masculine and feminine.
Also, my teaching this grammar point was ironic since at least some of my students do not believe that I am female. I've heard them asking my co-teachers (in Korean) and audibly disbelieving the answer. For that matter, Korean adults have asked me point-blank whether I was male or female. One older woman in a bank even tried to touch my breast to check for herself.
Later that day, I needed to use the restroom and approached a public women's restroom. A female custodian said (in Korean), "No! The MEN'S room is over there." I shrugged and used the men's room. (Note: I was wearing tan khaki pants, a blue button-down shirt, and sparkly blue nail polish at the time.)
Honestly, I wish I could avoid gender altogether. That's not possible, especially in Korea. Women and girls are much girlier here than they are in the U.S. They wear lots of make-up, climb mountains in stiletto heels, and cover their mouths when they laugh. One does encounter butch-looking girls now and then, however. I wonder what kind of feedback they get about their gender performance.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Don't get your toenails in a twist
Today, I called the nail salon at HomePlus and made an appointment for a pedicure. I have never done this before, even in the U.S. There is a practical reason why I'm doing so now: due to increased stiffening in the hip joint, I have great difficulty (and pain) in cutting the toenails on my left foot. Usually, I wait until the nails actually snag on things.
For me, a pedicure is both a luxury and a practical solution to a problem. I could use help in trimming my toenails and rubbing off the dead skin on my heels ( of which I can only reach one). I don't need toenail polish, but if it's included, I might as well get it (blue or grass-green, please).
Making the call was a little intimidating. It was actually the first time I've ever made an appointment in Korean. Before making the call, I checked with a Korean coworker about the correct sentence form to use when requesting an appointment. The woman who answered the phone was patient, kind and obviously used to dealing with foreigners. She repeated things as many times as I asked and used English when she could.
Besides the "making a phone call in Korean" factor, there were other reasons why I hesitated to make this apointment. First, I'm ashamed of the condition of my feet. I imagine the nail salon worker taking one look at my feet and yelling (in a mixture of English and Korean) "OMG! That's disgusting! Get out of here!"
Also, I've never thought of myself as the type of person who got pedicures (or any other type of professional grooming besides the occasional haircut). I'm not one of those women on Sex in the City. I'm not entirely comfortable with the label "woman," much less "girly girl." By American standards, I am neither rich nor feminine. I do, however, have really long and disgusting toenails. Practicality wins.
For me, a pedicure is both a luxury and a practical solution to a problem. I could use help in trimming my toenails and rubbing off the dead skin on my heels ( of which I can only reach one). I don't need toenail polish, but if it's included, I might as well get it (blue or grass-green, please).
Making the call was a little intimidating. It was actually the first time I've ever made an appointment in Korean. Before making the call, I checked with a Korean coworker about the correct sentence form to use when requesting an appointment. The woman who answered the phone was patient, kind and obviously used to dealing with foreigners. She repeated things as many times as I asked and used English when she could.
Besides the "making a phone call in Korean" factor, there were other reasons why I hesitated to make this apointment. First, I'm ashamed of the condition of my feet. I imagine the nail salon worker taking one look at my feet and yelling (in a mixture of English and Korean) "OMG! That's disgusting! Get out of here!"
Also, I've never thought of myself as the type of person who got pedicures (or any other type of professional grooming besides the occasional haircut). I'm not one of those women on Sex in the City. I'm not entirely comfortable with the label "woman," much less "girly girl." By American standards, I am neither rich nor feminine. I do, however, have really long and disgusting toenails. Practicality wins.
Vacation Drama
First, let me acknowledge that as a person who can afford to take a vacation, I am one of a very privileged few. As a worker whose contract entails a PAID vacation, I’m extremely well-off. As a person who can afford a vacation in another country, I’m off-the-charts lucky.
While trying to keep these facts in perspective, I still lost control of my emotions at work today during a conflict with my CT over vacation time. Several weeks ago, the education office sent all of us EPIK foreigners an email stating that our vacation time would be July 19-July 30th. We were required to attend two weeks of mandatory training starting August 2nd.
My CT told me that our school would be open through July 23rd and that teachers would be required to attend even when there were no classes. Fine. I planned a vacation from July 26th to July 30th. I made plane and hotel reservations.
When I mentioned these reservations this afternoon, my CT looked very surprised. She then informed me that she and the other English teacher (Korean) had, just this past Saturday, settled on a date for the school’s two day “English Camp”: July 26th and July 27th.
She said she didn’t want to ruin my vacation. She said it was ok, that they could manage the camp without me. What I heard was, “If you have any loyalty to this school and professional work ethic, you will work when we tell you to.” When she said, “you don’t have to change your vacation,” what I heard, over interpreting Korean non-confrontational communication styles (and perhaps also listening to internalized guilt), was “You should change your plans so you can work those days.” I have NEVER heard a manager or supervisor ask me to work on a given day, say it was fine if I had other plans, and MEAN it.
I told her (as I believed I was obligated to do) that I would change the reservations. I also expressed annoyance about suddenly finding out that I’d lost two vacation days. I asked for help in communicating with the travel agency. Called them 8 times. No answer. I got increasingly upset. I showed the CT the email from the board of ed. She said that Korean teachers had to come in and work during their vacations. She said that she had given me plenty of notice about the English camp. She said that she had no idea about foreigners getting July 19th-30th off. She said that my getting upset made her upset. She stormed out of the room.
I emailed the travel agency and requested a change of flight dates, which I got for no charge. I emailed the hotel booking agency with the same request (am still waiting on that one). Trying not to cry, I called the foreign teacher liaison at the education office (the one who had sent the email about vacation dates). She was expressed surprise that my school had told me I was supposed to work through the 23rd and again on the 26th and 27th. She said not to worry, that she would call my CT and send an official document regarding vacation time.
I tried to calm down, but my mind shredded itself with worries that I had now irrevocably poisoned my work environment for the next seven months. I called myself stupid for even thinking about applying for Korean citizenship when I obviously couldn’t manage Korean workplace communication.
Eventually, the CT came back. She had spoken with the ed office and said she understood about the vacation time. She said it was a cultural difference that I expected not to have to work during vacation time even though Korean teachers did. She said I did not have to change the dates of the trip to Japan or work at the English camp. I explained that I had already changed the dates and could work at the camp if necessary. She said no, I absolutely did not have to work at the camp.
She said that she was upset because I had been repeating two contradictory messages: 1) that I could change the dates of my trip; and 2) that I was very upset about the loss of vacation time (if I had to work through the 23rd and again on the 26th and 27th, that would be 7 days vacation instead of the promised ten, a significant difference). I explained that I did not take her literally when she said it was “ok” for me not to work on the 26th and 27th. I’ve heard the mendacious/polite “ok” from other bosses, Korean and Western. I interpreted her “ok” as “legally, you can do this, but I will make you pay for it.”
She said she meant exactly what she said. Maybe so. She took my hand and repeatedly apologized for hurting my feelings.
I still have some questions:
1) Why did the office of education notify the foreign teachers, but NOT their workplaces, about vacation time?
2) How do I tell when a CT is telling me the truth?
3) Am I reading far more into what she and others (Korean and foreign) say than what they actually mean?
4. Or am I just being a martyr?
There’s definitely some truth to #3. For as long as I can remember, other people (almost always female) frequently criticized me for not reading between the lines. By failing to pick up on unspoken requests, criticisms, hints, etc., I provoked anger. At one point, I even wondered if I might have ADHD or a mild form of autism. Now, by default, I assume that in any given communication in which I am the least bit uncomfortable, there is significant unstated negative content coming from the other person(s). Being defensive and paranoid, I assume that there is always another shoe to drop, no matter how hard I listen and count the “thuds.” Rethinking this assumption might make me more optimistic, but would also leave me vulnerable to unpleasant surprises. Oh wait—those happen anyway. Damn.
Another question: would a man feel he had to worry so damn much about the hidden meanings in every conversation? (I’ve often heard men complain about this when talking about their girlfriends and wives.)
Anyway, there appears to be no permanent damage from today’s unpleasantness. I will still go to Japan, just a few days later. I can see the same places, do the same things, and pay the same prices. I also have a few days off work before the trip to Japan, which I can use for day trips within Korea (Busan, Seoul, Daegu, etc.), getting a re-entry visa at immigration, and arranging for the cat’s boarding. Oh—and I need a refill on the Prozac.
While trying to keep these facts in perspective, I still lost control of my emotions at work today during a conflict with my CT over vacation time. Several weeks ago, the education office sent all of us EPIK foreigners an email stating that our vacation time would be July 19-July 30th. We were required to attend two weeks of mandatory training starting August 2nd.
My CT told me that our school would be open through July 23rd and that teachers would be required to attend even when there were no classes. Fine. I planned a vacation from July 26th to July 30th. I made plane and hotel reservations.
When I mentioned these reservations this afternoon, my CT looked very surprised. She then informed me that she and the other English teacher (Korean) had, just this past Saturday, settled on a date for the school’s two day “English Camp”: July 26th and July 27th.
She said she didn’t want to ruin my vacation. She said it was ok, that they could manage the camp without me. What I heard was, “If you have any loyalty to this school and professional work ethic, you will work when we tell you to.” When she said, “you don’t have to change your vacation,” what I heard, over interpreting Korean non-confrontational communication styles (and perhaps also listening to internalized guilt), was “You should change your plans so you can work those days.” I have NEVER heard a manager or supervisor ask me to work on a given day, say it was fine if I had other plans, and MEAN it.
I told her (as I believed I was obligated to do) that I would change the reservations. I also expressed annoyance about suddenly finding out that I’d lost two vacation days. I asked for help in communicating with the travel agency. Called them 8 times. No answer. I got increasingly upset. I showed the CT the email from the board of ed. She said that Korean teachers had to come in and work during their vacations. She said that she had given me plenty of notice about the English camp. She said that she had no idea about foreigners getting July 19th-30th off. She said that my getting upset made her upset. She stormed out of the room.
I emailed the travel agency and requested a change of flight dates, which I got for no charge. I emailed the hotel booking agency with the same request (am still waiting on that one). Trying not to cry, I called the foreign teacher liaison at the education office (the one who had sent the email about vacation dates). She was expressed surprise that my school had told me I was supposed to work through the 23rd and again on the 26th and 27th. She said not to worry, that she would call my CT and send an official document regarding vacation time.
I tried to calm down, but my mind shredded itself with worries that I had now irrevocably poisoned my work environment for the next seven months. I called myself stupid for even thinking about applying for Korean citizenship when I obviously couldn’t manage Korean workplace communication.
Eventually, the CT came back. She had spoken with the ed office and said she understood about the vacation time. She said it was a cultural difference that I expected not to have to work during vacation time even though Korean teachers did. She said I did not have to change the dates of the trip to Japan or work at the English camp. I explained that I had already changed the dates and could work at the camp if necessary. She said no, I absolutely did not have to work at the camp.
She said that she was upset because I had been repeating two contradictory messages: 1) that I could change the dates of my trip; and 2) that I was very upset about the loss of vacation time (if I had to work through the 23rd and again on the 26th and 27th, that would be 7 days vacation instead of the promised ten, a significant difference). I explained that I did not take her literally when she said it was “ok” for me not to work on the 26th and 27th. I’ve heard the mendacious/polite “ok” from other bosses, Korean and Western. I interpreted her “ok” as “legally, you can do this, but I will make you pay for it.”
She said she meant exactly what she said. Maybe so. She took my hand and repeatedly apologized for hurting my feelings.
I still have some questions:
1) Why did the office of education notify the foreign teachers, but NOT their workplaces, about vacation time?
2) How do I tell when a CT is telling me the truth?
3) Am I reading far more into what she and others (Korean and foreign) say than what they actually mean?
4. Or am I just being a martyr?
There’s definitely some truth to #3. For as long as I can remember, other people (almost always female) frequently criticized me for not reading between the lines. By failing to pick up on unspoken requests, criticisms, hints, etc., I provoked anger. At one point, I even wondered if I might have ADHD or a mild form of autism. Now, by default, I assume that in any given communication in which I am the least bit uncomfortable, there is significant unstated negative content coming from the other person(s). Being defensive and paranoid, I assume that there is always another shoe to drop, no matter how hard I listen and count the “thuds.” Rethinking this assumption might make me more optimistic, but would also leave me vulnerable to unpleasant surprises. Oh wait—those happen anyway. Damn.
Another question: would a man feel he had to worry so damn much about the hidden meanings in every conversation? (I’ve often heard men complain about this when talking about their girlfriends and wives.)
Anyway, there appears to be no permanent damage from today’s unpleasantness. I will still go to Japan, just a few days later. I can see the same places, do the same things, and pay the same prices. I also have a few days off work before the trip to Japan, which I can use for day trips within Korea (Busan, Seoul, Daegu, etc.), getting a re-entry visa at immigration, and arranging for the cat’s boarding. Oh—and I need a refill on the Prozac.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Smelly Foreigners
It has recently come to my attention that I stink. My CT, after much squirming and agonizing aloud about possibly hurting my feelings by talking to me about such a private thing, informed me that I have an offensive body odor. She said that this had been bothering her for a long time and that she was afraid to say anything, but that if she didn't, the situation would continue. She said that this was the reason she always opened the window in our (very large) shared office. She told me that the other CT also thought I smelled bad. Then she squirmed some more and asked if I was offended.
Swallowing massive and painful embarrassment, I said that I was not offended, that I preferred her to speak frankly, and that I would try a different soap. We hardly spoke to each other for the rest of the afternoon except to discuss an upcoming extra class that I would soon start teaching.
(I wish I could say this is the first time someone has sat me down for the "you stink" conversation, but it isn't. During late high school or early college, I went through an "I don't think deodorant is necessary" phase. The guidance counselor did the necessary intervention on behalf of one or more anonymous complainants. I knew something was up when she said she wanted us to have a "chat" and then started asking me whether I used soap when I did laundry. (At least CT didn't go into details like that.))
After work, I went to several bath and body type shops. Feeling like a (butch) elephant in those tiny, fragrant places, I tried to avoid the smiling clerks and inspect the rows of bottles and tubes, arranged by color, in peace. I bought shower gel in lavender, rosemary-mint, orange-mint, and chamomile scents. I also bought peppermint shampoo and a few colors of nail polish, baby powder, face powder, a shower pouf and some tea-tree oil soap. I still draw the line at make-up, skirts, heels and hose. Those are not going on my body anytime in the forseeable future.
Anyway, I've started using the aromatic bath products and pushing myself to shower more often than I'd been doing. Now and then I use nail polish. Teachers and kids both squeal over this. I've let my buzz cut grow out some. Yep. I'm succombing somewhat to gender pressure. I can't be transgender here the way I was back in the U.S. Or maybe I'm just tired of kids asking what sex I am and not being able to tell them that it shouldn't matter.
Swallowing massive and painful embarrassment, I said that I was not offended, that I preferred her to speak frankly, and that I would try a different soap. We hardly spoke to each other for the rest of the afternoon except to discuss an upcoming extra class that I would soon start teaching.
(I wish I could say this is the first time someone has sat me down for the "you stink" conversation, but it isn't. During late high school or early college, I went through an "I don't think deodorant is necessary" phase. The guidance counselor did the necessary intervention on behalf of one or more anonymous complainants. I knew something was up when she said she wanted us to have a "chat" and then started asking me whether I used soap when I did laundry. (At least CT didn't go into details like that.))
After work, I went to several bath and body type shops. Feeling like a (butch) elephant in those tiny, fragrant places, I tried to avoid the smiling clerks and inspect the rows of bottles and tubes, arranged by color, in peace. I bought shower gel in lavender, rosemary-mint, orange-mint, and chamomile scents. I also bought peppermint shampoo and a few colors of nail polish, baby powder, face powder, a shower pouf and some tea-tree oil soap. I still draw the line at make-up, skirts, heels and hose. Those are not going on my body anytime in the forseeable future.
Anyway, I've started using the aromatic bath products and pushing myself to shower more often than I'd been doing. Now and then I use nail polish. Teachers and kids both squeal over this. I've let my buzz cut grow out some. Yep. I'm succombing somewhat to gender pressure. I can't be transgender here the way I was back in the U.S. Or maybe I'm just tired of kids asking what sex I am and not being able to tell them that it shouldn't matter.
Health Check Bullshit
On May 14th (Teachers' Day), I went to Wonkwang University's Health Promotion Center (HPC) for one of two required annual health checks. This one involved fasting bloodwork, urine tests, chest x-rays, vision and hearing tests, weight, blood pressure, dental exam and questionnaires. The people who did these things barely spoke English and my Korean was not up to the job. The person at the front desk, using a calendar, told me that they would send the results to my employer in one week.
That was over two weeks ago. Said employer just called me wanting to know whether I'd done a health check at all. Now I'm trying not to panic. My mind is twirling with possibilities, none of them good:
1. The HPC LOST my paperwork and I'll have to do the whole damned thing over again.
2. One or more test results was so bad that the HPC is filling out special forms to send to my employer.
3. The HPC sent their only copy of the paperwork to the wrong place and I'll have to do the whole thing again.
4. The test results were declared invalid because I didn't manage to pee enough in the cup.
5. The HPC did send the paperwork and my employer lost it.
6. The HPC did send the paperwork and my employer has it but is lying about that fact for some nefarious reason.
7. There was a complete miscommunication between the health providers and me regarding where to send the paperwork or whether I was supposed to pick it up myself. (I did ask if I should come and they said, "no.")
8. The HPC is just very slow in processing paperwork and because of this, I've already missed some critical deadline.
9. The HPC got my name wrong on some or all of the paperwork.
I wish I could just go to directly to immigration or the employer's office, donate a pint of blood and PROVE, definitively, that despite being a foreigner, I am neither on drugs nor HIV positive. I'd give blood every month or two if that's what it took to avoid this mischigoss.
Added to these worries is the fact that people, Korean and foreign, have been inquiring about my health, particularly that aspect of it that causes me to walk with a cane. Perhaps I'm being too sensitive about this, but I feel that I must prove my ability to teach despite being physically imperfect.
As an American who is used to health information privacy laws, I am already intensely uneasy about my employer having full access to all my health information. All they need to know is that I am not carrying any dangerous diseases, using any illegal substances, or about to drop dead in the middle of my contract. They do not need to know my weight, blood pressure, exercise habits, tooth brushing habits, vision, cholesterol, or anything else.
The health check was a stressful, frightening and time-consuming process, especially since it was conducted in a mixture of broken Korean and broken English. One health professional after another asked questions that I only partly understood. I do not know what they wrote down on which forms. I do not want to go through this experience any more times than absolutely necessary in order to maintain my visa and job. I do not understand why two separate health checks (within a couple of months of each other) were necessary at all.
I worry that someone from the education office will suddenly inform me that due to my weight or disability, I can no longer work in the Korean public schools or (worst case scenario) in Korea at all. I know that in Korea, laws and policies can be flexible depending on who you know and who your boss knows. I don't think I have any conditions that absolutely disqualify me from working here (the main concerns being drug use and HIV). Still, when people say they are "concerned," alarm bells go off in my head. I hear "concerned" and think "looking for a reason to get rid of me."
That was over two weeks ago. Said employer just called me wanting to know whether I'd done a health check at all. Now I'm trying not to panic. My mind is twirling with possibilities, none of them good:
1. The HPC LOST my paperwork and I'll have to do the whole damned thing over again.
2. One or more test results was so bad that the HPC is filling out special forms to send to my employer.
3. The HPC sent their only copy of the paperwork to the wrong place and I'll have to do the whole thing again.
4. The test results were declared invalid because I didn't manage to pee enough in the cup.
5. The HPC did send the paperwork and my employer lost it.
6. The HPC did send the paperwork and my employer has it but is lying about that fact for some nefarious reason.
7. There was a complete miscommunication between the health providers and me regarding where to send the paperwork or whether I was supposed to pick it up myself. (I did ask if I should come and they said, "no.")
8. The HPC is just very slow in processing paperwork and because of this, I've already missed some critical deadline.
9. The HPC got my name wrong on some or all of the paperwork.
I wish I could just go to directly to immigration or the employer's office, donate a pint of blood and PROVE, definitively, that despite being a foreigner, I am neither on drugs nor HIV positive. I'd give blood every month or two if that's what it took to avoid this mischigoss.
Added to these worries is the fact that people, Korean and foreign, have been inquiring about my health, particularly that aspect of it that causes me to walk with a cane. Perhaps I'm being too sensitive about this, but I feel that I must prove my ability to teach despite being physically imperfect.
As an American who is used to health information privacy laws, I am already intensely uneasy about my employer having full access to all my health information. All they need to know is that I am not carrying any dangerous diseases, using any illegal substances, or about to drop dead in the middle of my contract. They do not need to know my weight, blood pressure, exercise habits, tooth brushing habits, vision, cholesterol, or anything else.
The health check was a stressful, frightening and time-consuming process, especially since it was conducted in a mixture of broken Korean and broken English. One health professional after another asked questions that I only partly understood. I do not know what they wrote down on which forms. I do not want to go through this experience any more times than absolutely necessary in order to maintain my visa and job. I do not understand why two separate health checks (within a couple of months of each other) were necessary at all.
I worry that someone from the education office will suddenly inform me that due to my weight or disability, I can no longer work in the Korean public schools or (worst case scenario) in Korea at all. I know that in Korea, laws and policies can be flexible depending on who you know and who your boss knows. I don't think I have any conditions that absolutely disqualify me from working here (the main concerns being drug use and HIV). Still, when people say they are "concerned," alarm bells go off in my head. I hear "concerned" and think "looking for a reason to get rid of me."
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Surprise! New Schedule (again).
Today, I taught first and second grade students at Namchang Elementary School. Usually, I teach fifth and sixth graders. Until approximately 10 minutes before class, I assumed that I would be teaching fifth and sixth graders. As per co-teacher requests, I had prepared activities for fifth and sixth graders. When I entered the teachers' room, the secretary and an unfamilar teacher, neither of whom spoke much English, informed me of the change in schedule. Oh, and today would be the first and second grade students' very first English lesson. No pressure.
Suppressing the urge to shout at someone, I checked my USB drive (memory stick) for Emergency Classroom Activities. There were several. Whenever I find something that works, whether in the regular classroom or at English camp, I keep the relevant files on the USB that travels with me at all times. This prepares me somewhat for surprise schedule changes like today's.
I chose three things: the self-introductory "Who is the Foreign Teacher?" powerpoint; the Hokey Pokey (first showing a video on youtube); and some classroom English (open the book, close the book, wait, I can't see, etc.). The students had a good time. We all laughed a lot. I heard one of the KTs telling the assistant principal (in Korean) about the foreign teacher's fun English lesson. Students were especially impressed by the photo of Chingu the cat and delighted to learn the words "backside" and "shake."
On the one hand, I am glad that classes went so well. I was able, at a moment's notice, to come up with age-appropriate activities and lead two new classes. I spoke enough Korean to explain things when the KT could not. I probably handled the situation better than a less-experienced foreign teacher would have done, simply because I had accumulated enough back-up activities. Had I walked in with only one lesson plan and nothing else, I would have panicked and floundered.
On the other hand, I cannot help but wonder if handling the switcheroo so calmly will hinder my efforts to get the coteachers at this school to TELL me in advance when they know the schedule will change. I understand that emergencies happen. By definition, emergencies are unpredictable. Today was not an emergency.
The upper grade students and teachers were off at a special training in another city. They do this training every year. All the teachers knew it was coming. They could have told me.
Yesterday at Gohyeon, upon my request, my CT went through the entire year's calendar with me, pointing out every exam, special day and holiday. Next time I teach at Namchang, I'll ask the main CT to do the same.
No matter what I do, I cannot always anticipate changes in my teaching schedule. I am a foreigner. Korean teachers and administrators seldom remember to tell the foreigner what is going to happen until the very moment before it happens. They assume that the foreigner knows what everyone else knows. Or they are uncomfortable speaking English to the foreigner.
I frequently remind myself that there are also cultural differences at work here. At the schools where I've worked in Korea, bosses and teachers seem to prefer winging it rather than planning ahead (not always, but more so than most Americans with whom I've worked). As a westerner, I try to anticipate and control everything, even the future. My Korean coworkers try to go with the flow.
After working in Korea for a little over two years, I have become more flexible, but will probably always think like a westerner at the deepest levels. Meanwhile, I'll keep collecting classroom activities that are appropriate for a variety of grade levels, no matter what I am officially scheduled to teach. That small USB is my sanity-saver.
Suppressing the urge to shout at someone, I checked my USB drive (memory stick) for Emergency Classroom Activities. There were several. Whenever I find something that works, whether in the regular classroom or at English camp, I keep the relevant files on the USB that travels with me at all times. This prepares me somewhat for surprise schedule changes like today's.
I chose three things: the self-introductory "Who is the Foreign Teacher?" powerpoint; the Hokey Pokey (first showing a video on youtube); and some classroom English (open the book, close the book, wait, I can't see, etc.). The students had a good time. We all laughed a lot. I heard one of the KTs telling the assistant principal (in Korean) about the foreign teacher's fun English lesson. Students were especially impressed by the photo of Chingu the cat and delighted to learn the words "backside" and "shake."
On the one hand, I am glad that classes went so well. I was able, at a moment's notice, to come up with age-appropriate activities and lead two new classes. I spoke enough Korean to explain things when the KT could not. I probably handled the situation better than a less-experienced foreign teacher would have done, simply because I had accumulated enough back-up activities. Had I walked in with only one lesson plan and nothing else, I would have panicked and floundered.
On the other hand, I cannot help but wonder if handling the switcheroo so calmly will hinder my efforts to get the coteachers at this school to TELL me in advance when they know the schedule will change. I understand that emergencies happen. By definition, emergencies are unpredictable. Today was not an emergency.
The upper grade students and teachers were off at a special training in another city. They do this training every year. All the teachers knew it was coming. They could have told me.
Yesterday at Gohyeon, upon my request, my CT went through the entire year's calendar with me, pointing out every exam, special day and holiday. Next time I teach at Namchang, I'll ask the main CT to do the same.
No matter what I do, I cannot always anticipate changes in my teaching schedule. I am a foreigner. Korean teachers and administrators seldom remember to tell the foreigner what is going to happen until the very moment before it happens. They assume that the foreigner knows what everyone else knows. Or they are uncomfortable speaking English to the foreigner.
I frequently remind myself that there are also cultural differences at work here. At the schools where I've worked in Korea, bosses and teachers seem to prefer winging it rather than planning ahead (not always, but more so than most Americans with whom I've worked). As a westerner, I try to anticipate and control everything, even the future. My Korean coworkers try to go with the flow.
After working in Korea for a little over two years, I have become more flexible, but will probably always think like a westerner at the deepest levels. Meanwhile, I'll keep collecting classroom activities that are appropriate for a variety of grade levels, no matter what I am officially scheduled to teach. That small USB is my sanity-saver.
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