Big Nose

The other day some of the younger children came into my office. I don't teach them because they are in a really basic class, but they like to come in and talk to me.

They typically come in to say 'hello' and exchange a few of the English phrases they have memorized before heading off to their class. If I am completely honest after about five or ten minutes I am ready for peace and quite and an opportunity to get back to my book, but most days they are unassailable cute. They smile, jump around, and generally make a ruckus.

I don't know what was different about today. I don't know if they learned new words or if they were in a playful mood, but things did not follow their normal routine. After the customary 'hello' and 'how are you today?' they said, "Teacher has a big nose." This was followed by a chorus of 'big nose'.

I have never been been self continuous, at least not about my nose, but after this episode I checked my nose out in a mirror. It is a little big, at least by Korean standards. The kids who made the comments had freakishly small noses. (I thought about making fun of their small noses, but decided against it. It would be a little immature to make fun of some kindergarteners because they called me mean names.)

Yesterday, some of my high school students told me I had I 'high nose', and compared my nose with a shark fin. I think I need to get out of this country before I develop a complex.

Culture Shock

Teaching English in Korea exposes you to a lot of interesting cross cultural experiences. Most of the kids who are learning English have at least a little bit of knowledge about American culture. What is fun is seeing American culture expressed by Koreans.

For example, a couple months back there was a huge cultural festival, here in Gimhea, that celebrated the ancient kingdom that was based in Gimhea. There is a very interesting story about an Indian princess who saw the founder of this kingdom in a dream, and went on a journey to find him. Together they founded this kingdom.

What was particularly interesting about this festival was the pageant that accompanied it. It followed the story of this king and his queen, but not in the way I expected. It opened with traditional Korean music, introduced the characters, ect. Then all of a sudden, out comes a power ballad and I have been transported form ancient Korea to modern MTV.

It is not just the music and the singing (Oh yes there was singing a plenty. Koreans love to sing!). What really got me was the dancing. All you needed was a blond haired girl in a catholic school girl outfit and you would have had a Brittany Spears music video. As soon as I got my bearings and accepted that all of this was happening, they started rapping. Yes rapping, with all the customary dancing and jumping around that comes with that genre of music.

The show continued like this moving without warning from one musical style to another and proceeded to unfold the history of this ancient and important Korean kingdom.

I could not help but wonder what the older members of the audience thought about this. Some of them were probably around during the Korean War, and have seen their country move from war ravaged wreck, to developing economy, to an increasingly cosmopolitan and international culture. I could not help but wonder what they think about all of this change.

You're so Handsome

"Your so handsome."

The above is a complement usually reserved for rare occasions, and typically recived by a man from a woman. I usually got comments like this from my female relatives, on the (rare) occasion that I bothered to dress up. (This would typically be a major family function or holidays where showing up in my typical, jeans and a t-shirt, ensemble would be inappropriate.)The usual reaction to the complement is a "thank you", then both parties resume whatever it was they were doing.

That is how things normally go, but like many things in Korea things are a bit different. When I arived, after my 24 hour trip from the States to Korea, my director took all the teachers at our school and myself out for a meal. Durring this meal my dirrector, a man several years my senior, called me handsome no less than five times. This prompted the teachers to enthusiastically repeat the complement. This was flattering (and a bit awkward) the first time. I had been in airports and on planes for the better part of a day, and probably did not look my best, but the more they did it the more it moved from awkward to creepy.

I soon found that I would have to get used to this. Everyone, from cashiers, to waitresses, to the children who go to the local schools, have called me handsome. Sometimes it seems that it is the only English word people know. I do know know which is creepier: being told this by the men, or the young girls.

The Name Game

I named a kid today. For the people out there wondering if I have fathered an illegitimate child with my long term crush, Condoleezza Rice, the answer is no. Her lawyers have informed me that while she does like me, she just does not like me that way.

No, I had the honor of naming a Korean child today. (No, the kid is not mine, I have not even been in the country that long.)

Why was I asked to name a child? I was the only native English speaker around at the time. You see, the child was starting English classes at my school, and contrary to the politically correct practice of the United States, people do not use their Korean name when introducing themselves or talking to an English speaker. In Korea have what they call "English names".

While the idea, in America, of someone changing their name so that it is easier for other people to say smacks of cultural imperialism and the abandoning of your cultural heritage, the people of Korea don't seem to mind.

Almost everyone seems to have these extra "English names" to use when they are talking to foreigners. They get them when they first start learning English and the name follows them throughout their educational and professional careers.

You may think I am exaggerating, but this evening in my adult English class I had a new student. When I introduced myself and asked her what her name was she said,"My English name is Judy." Furthermore, when she produced an electronic English dictionary from her bag, it had written on it, in large block letters,"JUDY."

It's not just the student, everyone I have talked to goes by their "English name" around me. Not just when they are talking to me, but also when they are talking to each other. I know they all have Korean names, but I have never heard them use them.

So, as I sat at my desk staring at this five or six year old child that I had never met before, and who seemed a little afraid of me, I realized that the name I gave him was not something temporary. It would likely be something that would follow him for the rest of his life, and long after I had returned to America he would be know by the name I had given him.

I wanted to make his name something special. Most of the kids have average American names. A couple were named after animals (Lion and Shark), but none of their names were very unique. The name came to me quickly, and was bequeathed to the child with equal speed. He was ushered out of my presence with the same swiftness and suddenness with which he had been ushered in.

There was no need for any more ceremony or pomp. The American had spoken. Having received his new name, the child was thus initiated into the English language, and there was no time to waste.

He had been named Cato.

(I can't decide if picking this name was funny, ironic, or cruel, but I am pleased with my choice. I think I will go for an ancient Roman motif with all my names. Cicero, Caesar, Pompey, Crassus, ect.)

Korean Kids are Crazy

I may have to use that title more than once (and not just because of the alliteration). There are so many things about these Kids that are just nuts.

Today, I am going to talk about Korean kids and school. Don't get me wrong, I believe in education, but there is such a thing as overkill.

I should not complain too much, because I personally benefit from the Korean tendency to overeducate. I would not have this job if thousands upon thousands of Korean parents did not send their children to after school schools.

These schools teach everything from English, to music, to martial arts. For these kids school does not end when the public school lets them out. That is just the starters pistol for a battery of extracurricular education.

At some point you have to feel bad for these kids. They spend most of their day in a variety of different schools, where their primary objective seems to be to memorize as much as possible.

One of the most frustrating things for me to do is to try to get these kids to be creative. Every time they have to make up their own story, or imagine something new (ie. not look at the story we just read and copy it verbatim) they give me this helpless blank stare.

I was talking to this high school student this week at church who is "lucky enough" to go to this elite and exclusive boarding school. They wake everyone up at 6:30 (They use a loud alarm broadcast over the intercom to wake people up. Already sounds like paradise, right.) Then they go to class from 8am to 6:30pm. Then they have study hall from 6:30pm to 11:30pm. Then sleep. Presumably they let these kids eat and go to the bathroom, but I am not sure.

Competition to get into Korea's top three universities (apparently the only ones really worth getting into) is really tough. You apparently have to take lots of AP classes, and they only accept people who get 5s (for the people who do not know, the best score is a 5). On top of all that these exams are administered in English!

It is not enough to master a subject like Macroeconomics, you also have to be able to pass, with flying colors, a test on the subject administered in a foreign language! Like I said, at some point you have to feel bad for these kids.

The Game of Life

This Friday, one of my classes had done all of it's work and had a ton of time left over, so I decided that we would play a game. At my school we have a limited number of games, and due to the number of students in the class we were limited to a choice between Monopoly and The Game of Life.

The kids chose The Game of Life.

It had been a while since I played the game, and I had forgten how complicated and conviluded the rules are. I had also forgoten how silly the game is. No matter what you do in this game you will get a job, get married, buy a house, and end your "life" with tons of money and life experiences.

I do not know what part of this game I like least, and it is hard for me to determine what part of this game is the least realistic. Is it the fixed path that everyone walks down, and the set path that all the players invariably follow? The idea that once you leave college you immediately get a career? (I bet a lot of people graduating this year wish that were true.) The idea that everyone, no matter what they spin, get married at the same time in their life? Or is it that there is not a single great tragedy that can befall a player in the totality of the game?!

Irritated by the game, I decided to go online and try to figure out what idiot thought this game was a good idea. I was surprised by what I found. The game was originally created in 1860 by Milton Bradly as The Checkered Game of Life. It was played with a six sided top (dice were considered evil), and depending on your spin you would move up or down, left or right, or diagonally. This game bears no resemblance to "The Game of Life", but has a great resemblance to life.

It is non-linear, there is no clear path, and failure is around every corner. Not only is failure possible, it is likely. Furthermore, there is a "Suicide" square! As its name suggests, if you land on this square you die, and the game is over for you. This is the kind of game I can get behind!

I think we need to modernize this version of The Game of Life, and market it to children. It would be far better to prepare them for the disappointments that are in store for them, than to give them an unrealistic expectation of what life is and have them be disappointed.