encouragement

I'm not a naturally loud and energetic person, which is unfortunate because that's exactly what I need to be in the classroom. Pleading to an 8 year old child's better nature is ineffective, especially when they can't speak your language. They only respond to brute and belligerent force. I've tried to render some counterfeit energy by drinking coffee throughout the day, but it hasn't worked like I need it to, and isn't sustainable. I've taken note that the only times that I am the kind of person that I need to be in the classroom, is a weekend night at a bar when I am shitfaced drunk.

So today, I showed up to work hammered.

Kidding!

But I have found the solution to my problem. My problem was not having the energy to keep up with these kids. The solution is Bacchus-D.



Bacchus-D is a Korean energy drink. It's a tiny feller, but packs a punch. At a mere 100ml, it contains 2000mg of taurine. To give some perspective, a can of Red Bull is about 250ml, and has only 1000mg of taurine. They don't sell it in convenient stores, only in pharmacies, so I've only just now stumbled across them at the behest of a friend of mine here. I bought a case of 10 of them for 3800Won. That comes to 380Won per bottle. Glancing at the current won to dollar exchange rate, I see that 380Won translates to 25cents. 25cents for two Red Bulls worth of energy. Boo-yah.

I popped one of these today before one of my nightmare classes, and I was all over those maniacs. They noticed pretty quickly that this was a different Sim Teacher than all prior meetings. I knew I had struck gold with these things when I actually had a student ask me, "Did you drink soju?" No, you little shit, NOW SIT THE FUCK DOWN!!!

I also found out about my new schedule today. Pretty much all of my classes are changing, or at least are being amalgamated with other classes; so it's a little bit of a rebirth, or a second chance to make a first impression. The older, wiser, Bacchus-D-fueled me relishes this opportunity.

I pick up one extra class on MWF, so I no longer have a 45 minute break and have to teach 9 consecutive classes on those days. But, I drop 2 classes on T-TH, so I only teach from 2:30-4:45. Not a bad trade, and the pay remains the same.

Seeing these last two posts, one probably thinks I'm bipolar or manic or something. It's not the case. I'm not saying I've stumbled across a magic solution to my teaching woes, but I'm not as low as I was yesterday. So I'm not too high, and not too low. My goal is to stay right where I am.

discouragement

There's something wrong with Korean children. Something very wrong. They are the most superficial group of human beings one can imagine. I've noticed this before, and today I posed the question to some of my classes, "What qualities does a good friend have?"

First answer: friendly

Okay, I'll allow that.

Second answer: pretty/handsome

Really? That's the second thing you come up with? Alright, what else?

Third Answer: rich

What the hell?

It went on like this.

Another problem with Korean children, or at least my students, is disrespect. Some of my younger classes are out of control before I even walk into the room. When I do walk in I am greeted with a shrieking chant of, "PLAY! PLAY! PLAY!" My attempts to convince them that they can play after class are ignored, and chaos reigns.

(By the way, you don't know true terror until you've walked into a room full of children, each drinking a bottle of soda and eating candy, and are expected to exercise any sort of control over them.)

For the older kids, the disrespect is more blatant. Whether they are incessantly playing on their phones, talking to each other in Korean, or simply ignoring every word I say, the theme remains the same: they couldn't care less. Maybe I'm just not any good with kids. My response to that accusation would be: that very well may be true, but I'm not dealing with kids, I'm dealing with monsters.

I try to remain optimistic, but I'd hoped that these kinks would be worked out by now. Any optimism I do have is evident by me showing up everyday 60-90 minutes early to prepare a battle strategy of some sort; a strategy that usually gets shot to hell.

I'm completely ineffective and the job itself is not much fun. I feel like shit. I feel like I'm disappointing people. I feel, as much as I hate to admit it, like quitting. I try not to think about quitting, because if you give a thought like that an inch it will take a mile, but it creeps into my head regardless.

At the end of the month my schedule is changing, so I'll have some new classes/students. Maybe things will get better then. If not, I can't imagine making it another 9 months.

swearing

It's not surprising that many of my students know English swear words. They're learning a new language, it's natural to want to know what the worst words in that language are.

When a student does swear, I can't help but laugh, but of course I have to yell at them as well. My yelling can't possibly discourage them, hell it probably encourages them because that's just the reaction they were hoping for. Still, what else can I do?

I have one student, a 12 year old boy called James, who loves to show off his swearing ability. What started as non-sequitur "shit"s and "fuck"s, has graduated into non-sequitur "shithead"s and "why don't you fucking die?"s. He's really blossomed.

Another student, this one a 7 year old boy called Tom, also has the habit. At the start of most classes I'll say, "Okay everyone, homework out," to which this kid, if he doesn't have his homework, replies with an emphatic, "Oh shit!"

Today I had another student, Jack, join the club of swearers. An 8 year old in one of my classes, he kept saying "fuck." He clearly had no idea how to use the word in a sentence or what it can mean, he just knew it was a bad word and fun to say. I tried to ignore it, so as not to encourage him, but it got to the point where I had to say something. He understood that I didn't want to hear him say it anymore, and promised to stop. Later in the same class, a fight between two other kids (Issac and Luke) nearly broke out, resulting in Luke bawling his eyes out. This is not uncommon in this class, I don't think I've had a period with them yet where somebody hasn't cried, or a fight hasn't broken out. In the aftermath of the argument I was attempting to find out what caused it and who was to blame. I asked around, searching for answers, and found that Jack was willing to testify. "What happened, Jack?" I asked, to which Jack responded, "Issac was fucking Luke." No wonder he was so mad.

Rather than praise Jack's use of the past progressive, or explain to him how important the word "with" can be, I just laughed, moved Issac's seat, and sent Luke out to be consoled by a Korean counselor.

This is a weird job.

tv

I try not to spend a lot of time just sitting alone in my apartment. I much prefer doing other things alone. I like to take walks, usually I'll start walking toward something and walk until I get lost. I can tell when I'm getting lost, because the expressions on the faces of the Koreans I see will get more surprised upon seeing a white person. (White people are a common sight in the district I live in, Songchon, but are irregular for the people in the more suburban surrounding areas.) When I realize I am indeed lost, I turn around and wander back, looking for a familiar landmark.

I also enjoy going to the nearby Dunkin' Donuts. I usually take a book or magazine, which I'll read for an hour or so while sipping on an overpriced coffee. (Brief aside: Korea needs to learn the "fast" aspect of "fast food". Sometimes I'll order a plain coffee and will have to wait 5 minutes for them to make it, because they don't have any readily available. And the last time I went to Lotteria, which is a local burger joint, I ordered a meal and was told "ten minutes." They even gave me one of those vibrating pagers that you're given at an Olive Garden or something when you have to wait for a table. I picked it up, stared at it, and stood 5 feet away from the counter, baffled.)

Anyways. New paragraph. Dunkin' Donuts. Sometimes I'll forget to take something to read, so I'll just sit there for a little while and people-watch and listen to indecipherable conversations, occasionally coming across a familiar word or phrase.

These activities are usually reserved for the weekends. I can't squeeze a 2 hour walk into my weekday routine, and my Dunkin' Donuts visits are much more brief. At night I am too tired to do anything other than have some dinner and then head back to my apartment. It's a nice, quiet way to end a day spent wrangling Crasians.

While at my apartment (note: not my home, but my apartment) I turn to that glowing box of nothingness, television, to pass the time. Television is pretty rampant here. Every corner store or restaurant has a shiny new plasma or high definition TV inside, to the point where it's glaringly out of place. I went to a tiny, take-out pizza shop the other day where I heard I could get a 6 dollar pie, and inside, even though there was barely enough space to stand, I found the shopkeeper staring at a huge plasma TV on the wall, transfixed by the S. Korea vs. Iran soccer match that was on that night.

Lucky for me, every night on the cartoon channel, Tooniverse, there's a few episodes of The Simpsons, broadcasted in English with Korean subtitles. I enjoy those, but this post isn't a critical review of episodes of The Simpsons, so forget that I mentioned it. There's also a couple of movie channels that I get. One, called SuperAction!, plays a steady dose of American action movies from the mid to late 90s. Other stations play more recent Hollywood movies, the kind of movies that someone with a girlfriend might have seen already. So, they're new to me. (Scopejuice: Love Actually and Step Up are played here all the time.)

One thing that there is a ton of here is WWE, UFC, and other MMA. At any given time I can turn on the TV and find at least three stations with some form of pugilism. It's ironic, given the peaceful nature of Korea that surrounds me. Hell, the cops here don't even carry guns, I've even seen a pair of cops walking down the street holding hands. (Korean men interlocking arms or hands is a way to show friendship, and doesn't have any gay connotation to it, even though it sure does look gay.)

Sports channels are readily available. I get a lot of English Premier League games, which is nice. When those aren't on, there's usually soccer highlights or replays of older games. There's a Korean basketball league as well, which is interesting for a few minutes but loses it's allure pretty quickly.

There's also a lot of what any westerner would identify as a crazy Asian game show, or variety show. These are pretty much a mystery to me, because God knows what the hell is happening on them. A lot of bright colors and yelling, that's all I take from them.

The funniest thing I've come across could most aptly be described as "sexy billiards". Sexy billards, plainly put, is women playing pool; but the devil's in the details. It's an outdoor event, and the women are young and wearing next to nothing: a bikini top and mini-skirt. The spectators of this event consist of dirty, fat, middle aged men with their hands in their pockets. The best part is that these girls are terrible at pool. They'll thoughtfully ponder over a shot, attempt to find the angles with the cue, line it up as perfectly as they can- while the cameraman lines up the most lurid angle he can- and then promptly miss the ball they were aiming at completely. They will then feign dissatisfaction, while the male spectators look on approvingly. It's hysterical.

Other than that, there's your normal historical, educational, or news channels which are probably pretty interesting if you can understand Korean. I can't, so it's The Simpsons and EPL for me. I'm glad I have it.

indivi-dualism

Today I woke up, I ate, and I went to work. At work I worked. While there I bemoaned my hirsute appearance, and I emphatically determined to get a haircut. (Note: this last sentence was written solely to piss off scopejuice.)

I entered the barbershop ill-equipped to explain to the person who would cut my hair what exactly I wanted my hair to look like. All I had with me was the ability to say, "Don't cut it too short, please," in Korean. Fortunately for me, on the wall of the barbershop were a couple of pictures of various hairstyles. I pointed at one, and added, "Neo-mu jjalp-kke kkak-jji ma-se-yo." This worked like gangbusters. I couldn't have hoped for a better haircut if I'd done it myself, which is something I've done quite often in the past.

This brings me to the topic of this post, which, as you may have guessed, is individualism. While one could say that the intent of the pictures of hairstyles on the wall were for the few foreigners in my area, I noticed that the photos pretty well encapsulated every Korean that I've seen since I got here. Everyone has one of five hairstyles, or is old and bald. This is especially noticeable with school-aged girls, who are required to have the same hairstyle: shoulder length hair with bangs above the eyes.

This normality extends beyond personal apperances. Tonight, not keen on spending another night alone in my apartment watching another replay of Park Ji Sung's greatest goals, I decided instead to go to a bar, albeit alone, to read a book and drink some beer and pass the time away. I walked to my usual bar, but found it closed. A sign on the door explained why it was closed, but only to those who can both read and understand Hangul.

I wandered around for a bit, searching for a bar that looked peaceful enough to drink alone in and read a book. I found one, called Tokyu (not Tokyo, Tokyu) House, and settled in. It was a quaint little place, a dive-bar, but unfortunately it shunned its uniqueness by insisting on pouring the same loud Korean pop music into the room that every bar here does. It could have differentiated itself, but instead insisted on being a minituarized imitation of everything else, even though its occupants consisted only of two middle-aged Korean couples, a joyously lonesome Korean man in the corner, and me.

Sometimes, in some classes, we'll play a game in which the students have to say a noun that starts with the letter that the previous noun ended with (zoo leads to octopus which leads to snake which leads to elephant which leads to television and so on and so on and so on and so it goes). This game is aimed at reinforcing vocabulary and initiating independent thought. However, the more vocal kids insist on screaming out appropriate words even when it's not their turn. When they do, the kid who's turn it is does not reject the suggestion of their peer's, but simply repeats the word that the other student proffered.

In America the individual is a cherished notion. Everyone can establish their uniqueness and individuality via their appearance or opinions or the background color of their myspace page. In Korea, things are more communal. Hell, every car I've seen here has been black or white. Things are either this, or they are that. Nothing is threatening, it is all familiar, it is all Korean. The communist in me detects this, woefully identifies the fascism in it, and laughs at madness of it all.

hamlet, kinda

So today I went with a friend to see a local university's production of Hamlet. It was pretty much the same in Korean, except with a little more Linkin Park, and Hamlet doesn't die at the end. Other than that, it was just as I remembered it.

We sat in the balcony, which would've been great if not for the huge unnecessary railing, which meant having to crane my neck to see the whole stage.


The fact that this Hamlet was going to be different was obvious from the get go. My memory of the first scene is guards on patrol seeing a ghost, but in Korea it is Hamlet center stage on his knees pointing a gun at his head. Then a bunch of people run at him, a Linkin Park song starts playing, and the thrash dancing begins. I wish I had a video of it.

From there, the story goes on pretty much as expected, except with interludes of Linkin Park. Even though it was in another language, I could usually tell what part it was. Hamlet mopes around, Ophelia is worried, Hamlet has his little play, Polonius dies, Ophelia dies, Laertes and Hamlet fight, and the end is a bloodbath. However, since we're dealing with guns and not swords, there is no poison tipped sword for Hamlet to be killed by. So, after he caps Claudius he sorta just stands there for a minute or two, then he takes a few steps and puts the gun to his head. The door that he's standing behind closes, and suddenly there's a little girl standing there 20 feet above the stage. The door opens again, Hamlet is still there, but this time sans gun. Lights dim. Rapturous applause- except from the two confused Americans in the audience.

Then everyone takes a bow.

Here's everyone bowing:

And clapping:All in all in was pretty crappy, but fun. If they put on any other Shakespeare plays I'll definitely go back to see them. I'm looking forward to a Romeo & Juliet in which they live and have 4 kids, or The Tempest which ends with Prospero massacring everyone.

strategies

As I believe I have mentioned here before, my most difficult classes are the ones of 11 to 13 year olds. At this age they are just beginning to embark on their social lives, and thus they are much more concerned with talking to each other, or sending text messages, than they are with me. In fact, because of my insistence on interfering with their preferred activities, I am viewed as less of an instructor and more of a nuisance.

In the past I have countered their insolence with pleads such as, "C'mon guys pay attention," or, "Girls, put the phones away," or, "No speaking Korean during class," or simply, "Please," each plead accompanied with an under-my-breath, "for fuck's sake."

Last week I had the realization that if I actually had some way of relating to them I could possibly get them to speak in English about things that they like. I was made aware of a Korean drama that all the kids love, called Kkot Poda Namja, or, in English, Boys Before Flowers. One of my fellow American teachers is addicted to it, and implored me to watch it. I acquiesced.

The story arc, from what I've been able to tell from the five subtitled episodes I've watched online, is comparable to that of The O.C. Except that instead of a displaced young man in a rich high school, it's a displaced young girl (Jan Di). Rejected by her peers, Jan Di quickly finds conflict with the four richest, most powerful, and irrepressibly gorgeous boys in the school, collectively known as the F4 (the F stands for Flower). In time, F4's leader, Jun Pyo, abandons his malice toward Jan Di in favor of his growing affection for her. This affection is unsought and disdained, because Jan Di has her eyes set on another member of F4- the more gallant and introverted Ji Hoo. So, Jun Pyo pursues Jan Di, and Jan Di pursues Ji Hoo, who initially eschewed Jan Di until his super model crush moved to Paris to pursue a law degree, and Ji Hoo began to become aware of his amorous feelings for Jan Di. To go along with this are a plethora of subplots, such as Jan Di's best friend Min Chi, and her lifelong crush on Jun Pyo which caused her to get dozens of plastic surgeries in order to attain the level of beauty she felt Jun Pyo sought, and her betrayal of Jan Di by having her roofied at a party and taking a picture of her in a hotel room bed lying next to a man. That bitch.

What was I talking about? Oh right, teaching. So I watched these five episodes in an effort to initiate some dialogue with my adolescents. It worked, to a degree. By at least knowing the characters' names I've been able to elicit a response from them, although my question "Who is better, Ji Hoo or Jun Pyo?" may instigate a school-wide civil war. Relaying my knowledge of the show's plot has caused discussions of the show's themes; discussions which are admittedly ridiculous, but at least are in English. Progress.

However, if you can believe it, five episodes of a Korean drama is not a panacea for one's teaching woes. Problems still persist. At some point I must shift the discussions toward curriculum, and from there it's easy to lose them. Such was the case today in my 4:45 class. While trying to bulldoze my way through another unit in the book, the cause was lost- lost in an avalanche of Korean gossip and text messages. After my 30th appeal to pay attention, with about ten minutes left in the period, I gave up. I stood there, next to the whiteboard, a callous look on my face, and watched them. Quickly thereafter, the students noticed the paucity of my pleadings, which previously served as an ambiance for their discussions. They looked at me quizzically, wanting my implorations but receiving none.

They resumed speaking Korean to each other, but this time I could tell the topic was my silence. Again they looked at me. Hoping to evoke a response, one of them jokingly asked if I was going to cry. My smile was irrepressible, though I managed to make it wry and accompanied with more silence. A brief chant of "Don't cry!" began, which was greeted by more wry smiling. Eventually, to my surprise, they began completing the unit. Instead of me pacing the classroom trying to speak above their discussions or ennui, yelling "Claire, can you read and answer number 4," or, "Owen, what's the answer to number 7," each student instead took their own turn, without my petitioning, and answered the questions their books had.

When they finished, they once again looked at me, anticipating words but again receiving nothing. My smile turned from wry to optimistic, but that was the extent of communication I allotted them.

Two periods later I employed the same technique on another class, when with ten minutes left in the period they similarly discarded me. These students also felt an amount of shame, and begged me to say something. I didn't. They apologized, but I remained cynical. The bell rang, and I was the first out of the room. I walked to the teachers' room and sat at my desk, preparing to tackle my next assignment, thankful that it was my favorite one, the one with Tupac. Not long after, one of the students appeared at the door. "Sim-teacher," he said, and I turned and looked at him. "Bye," he said, and I smiled and waved.

At the very least I have something to build on. I could be pessimistic and think that my students are at their best when I am silent, but, if you can believe it, I'm optimistic. Rather than continuing to yell my brains out at them in an attempt to tear them down into manageable minds, I've allowed them to realize how much they've torn me down. Now I can work with their contrition, rather than their indignation.

I'm looking forward to Friday, when we meet again.

soju

Every group of human beings that has assembled into a society has developed a way to forget all of the problems that arise because of existence. In Korea, the way is called "soju."

This is soju and me:



Soju, as one might expect of an Asian alcoholic drink, is made from rice. My Korean-English phrase book for travelers defines it as "rice wine," but calling it wine is a bit misleading. It's more of a liquor, a liquor that tastes awful.

I've had a few experiences with the vile drink, and to my discerning tongue it tastes like a mix of gin and rubbing alcohol. Granted, I've never tasted rubbing alcohol, but the senses of smell and taste are indelibly connected, and so I feel I have a general idea of what it would taste like if it were mixed with gin.

Koreans have done okay with masking its taste. I've had a few soju cocktails which were pretty much Slurpees with soju poured into them, and which were quite delicious because the soju was overwhelmed. However, more often than not, the drink is consumed undiluted, so that one experiences every ounce of its repugnance.

A person can buy soju pretty much anywhere. Every restaurant has it readily available, and rightfully so, because every time I've gone out to eat and seen more than 2 Korean men eating together, they are doing so over a bottle of soju. It can even be bought in juicebox form, so that the average Korean businessman can enjoy a few horrid ounces during his lunch hour.

I'd like to say that I'll never again touch the stuff, but I know that I will. I'll drink it, and I'll hate it, and I'll love it.