During a middle school Zoom class:
G: I'm thirsty, but I won't drink water now because it is class time.
Me: It's OK, G. Go get some water.
G: No, no. There is [sic ] 15 minutes of class left, so I will wait.
A: If you don't drink water, your throat will become like a desert.
G: Do you mean that I will die?! Me: He means your throat will be dry. G: But there are no deserts in Korea, so I know that if I go to a desert, then I will die.
A: So, drink some water now so you don't die.
G: I will drink some water.
Me: A, you are a good friend.
G: A is my best friend in the whole world.
Welcome to another peek into my life as an English teacher.
I teach at an English hagwon, which is an English-intensive academy that students attend after public school. There are many hagwons in Korea: English, math, Taekwondo, etc.
Korean students take an English proficiency test that help them get into better schools, including schools abroad. Our hagwon prepares students for this test. Korean teachers work with the students on their assigned academy days (students only attend two or three days a week), and we native English teachers rotate classrooms, teaching lessons that reinforce the speaking and writing skills that students learn from their Korean teachers.
We see our elementary schoolers twice a week and middle schoolers once a week. Students are organized into classes by grade and English proficiency. I currently teach low- and mid-range-proficiency elementary students, as well as low-proficiency middle schoolers.
New teachers are usually placed with the low proficiency students because it's a crash course in becoming a better teacher. It takes great patience and constant adapting to teach, let alone connect, with low-level students, particularly those of the middle school age.
During my first week teaching my middle school classes, I reasoned, "I guess 30 isn't such a bad age to start gray hairs." My students were on either side of this spectrum: talk talk talk talk talk or blank stare blank stare blank stare. I had to fight to win any excitement and focus. I'd find students drawing on their handouts, rather than writing on them. Sometimes they'd be writing in Korean and barely any English.
Would you believe it that these classes are amongst my favorites now?
I love the kids. I've been channeling my inner Jaime Escalante. (Though there is quite a difference between his students in Stand and Deliver and mine. My students here are very respectful and come from affluent backgrounds.) The key is keeping a positive attitude and never letting the class environment get the better of your optimism. There's a give-and-take that happens in my classroom. I listen to my students and let them try to piece ideas into words and sentences, helping them string their ideas as needed. I have high, but attainable, expectations for them, but my expectations mostly revolve around their behavior. They have to try. I promise them that we'll have some fun, even if we have to do the boring stuff first.
Every day is different, even with my high-energy fifth graders. Being a teacher sometimes feels like being an emcee. I'm keeping the party going, directing activities and steering the mood. (I've even downloaded an airhorn app for especially cheesy jokes, like introducing activities students don't want to do --- here's looking at you, Essay Day.)
Little Attorneys
In my previous post about teaching, I explained how students would make great hostage negotiators. I'm here today to say that they would also make great prosecutors.
As a teacher, I've learned how to make a decision and live with it, even if I regret it a second afterward. Kids will immediately out you if you are unfair or act opposite of what you say. This may seem simple and unimportant during, say, a game, but even these little moments can add largely to trust. For example, changing the rules mid-game or failing to fairly enforce them will turn the classroom into an episode of Ace Attorney. Kids have great memories, and they'll hold onto those memories, positive or negative, every class.
So, I do my best so the kids keep their trust in me, and so that I can keep my integrity and their respect.
That's why teaching has been so rewarding, especially with my low-level middle schoolers, who many of my coworkers dislike teaching, but where I've been having some of the most fun!
A couple weeks ago, I was playing 20 Questions with a middle school class. This is the game in which one person thinks of a noun, and everyone has to ask questions (up to 20) to guess what it is. One of my students, Alex, volunteered his friend, so I called him (Alex) up, instead. (Classic teacher move.) He came up willingly, though, and lived in the spotlight. "Questions...Questions..." he called, like a popcorn vendor at a ball game. The students giggled, but remained silent.
"Questions..." he continued. Then he pointed at one student who sits next to him. "Kevin. Question?"
Kevin asked, "Is it big?"
"No," Alex said. "Questions. Questions. Boy or girl. Questions." (I loved this because the boys and girls generally avoid looking at each other, working together, or talking to each other.)
Alex individually called out students, one by one. I gave him my class roster, and he handled it like a pro teacher. We couldn't stop laughing. The class guessed his word within eight questions.
My elementary school students are always full of energy, and they're usually eager to please. My intermediate classes are some of my favorites because I can speak quite normally with them, and they'll catch on. Sometimes we can have more advanced discussions.
For instance, I was teaching a lesson about problem-solving to my intermediate fifth graders. One particular class has the funniest and most creative students of all my classes. They love to joke around, and I am all for that.
I was presenting various everyday problems to them and let them feed off each other to brainstorm solutions.
Eventually, we got to one particular problem: You are on the toilet at school and realize that there is no toilet paper. What is a solution?
And in the spirit of a true 10-year-old comedian, one student said, "Use your left hand."
Oh, god.
What's with the English Names?
You may see me refer to Korean students and friends by English names. This is because many Koreans will give their chosen English name, since Korean names can be hard for English-speakers to pronounce.
The 10-year-old comedian I mentioned (he wants to be an announcer, but I honestly hope he goes into acting) used to use the English name "Luke." I had taken to calling him Luke Skywalker. A few months ago, he told me to use his Korean name, Haon. I started calling him "Haon Solo." He loves that.
His best friend in class is named Jake. I started calling him "Chewbecca" at first. Jake wasn't totally sold on that name, but now he asks that I call him "Jakebacca."
My student Bill Goldberg is, as you may have guessed, a huge wrestling fan. In Zoom, he changed his name maaaany times to reflect his hero.
One of my middle schoolers is named "Station." This is because his Korean name is "Seohyeon," which is also a subway station (Seohyeon Station) on the local train line. Therefore: Station.
Bro Cuddles
One of the bits of culture shock I've experienced in Korea has been the affection between boys. It's a shock in a wonderful way, really, but ironic given the more conservative nature (including common homophobia). Girls and women will often hold hands and link arms, but this is something that is common even in American culture. How about boys and men holding hands and linking arms?
It's quite endearing to hear boys calling each other handsome, sometimes jokingly and sometimes not. "Son Heung-min is very handsome," I've heard. Other men declared handsome by my male students: Captain America, Thor, and BTS. "Jongho is more handsome than BTS," my students sometimes joke. Yet, they are still calling other men handsome!
A couple middle school boys were tired in one of my classes, so they leaned their heads against each other's. I've seen young adult men hugging in public. One young man put his head on another man's shoulder.
In American culture, you'd assume that these boys and men were gay. Boys are encouraged to suppress emotions. Affection amongst boys, let alone teenagers and young adults, is not often expressed, especially not physically. So, what can we learn from Korean boys?
I think I've mentioned that the bits of culture shock I experience here come from the little things. I love how these little moments take you out of your cultural bubble, though. I sometimes look out the window, people-watch, and imagine what it would be like if I had been born here in Korea, rather than in the USA. What American cultural norms would seem weird to me? How would my thinking be different? Would I be the same person?
Honorary Funny Moments
A moment from our work group chat:
Every day, I feel very fortunate to be here. It is the feeling of being in the right place at the right time. I am surrounded by some of the best people in the world. Most importantly, I am learning something new every day. This is what happiness is made of.
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