Teaching I - Kindergarten

So just what is it like teaching English to a bunch of pint-sized, nose-mining little yard apes who may or may not understand any single word you say? In one sentiment: OK. (We’ll call this the mathematical mean). In two sentiments, the experience is simultaneously both extremely frustrating and extremely rewarding. Let me extrapolate.

I am sure that every ESL teaching experience (much like every non-ESL teaching experience) differs from the next in many ways. Unarguably, though, there are also bound to be many unanimous experiences shared across the board. I don’t know how this truism plays in to my own personal account, but just keep it in mind while you read. As usual, my friend Alan has made some astute and eloquently-stated observations on this subject as well should you desire a more thorough rendering of the topic than what is written here.

I work a standard 9-hour day (consisting of 8 teaching hours with an unpaid lunch break). As I have said, this is apparently a fairly long day for your average contract here in Korea but I am getting paid pretty well so it isn’t too bad. The days can definitely be tiring, especially considering you are both on your feet/moving around the entire time and that you have to be the sole centre of attention, focus, discipline, and exemplary behaviour for the classroom. Gone are the days of coming into class with a wooden jaw in the morning and laying low in the back corner with your head on your desk. Indeed, I definitely have a new-found respect for teachers of all stripes worldwide for the dedication, commitment, and professionalism necessary for the job. Considering, though, that I was unemployed for a good amount of time before coming over here and that I have no idea what an ‘easy’ ESL-teaching work experience is like, I really (really) can’t complain. Everything is relative.


Each morning I begin at 10 o’clock and teach a class of nine 5-year-olds until 12:30 and then again for an hour after lunch until 2:30. (They are technically called 6-year-olds here in Korea since the culture considers the 9 months spent in utero to be your first year of life. That is, you are 1 on the day you are born and count up from there). My kids have one 6-month term of learning English already under their belt, so the experience is not quite as aggravating as it could be. Still, though, their tiny adorable brains are still trying to figure out syntax and grammar rules in their own language, let alone their parentally-imposed second one. Many times, this results in even more absent-mindedness , crying, and confusion than a first-language kinder class would already merit – which is to say, a hell of a lot.

(I mention “parentally imposed” here because most of the parents do not actually speak English themselves. They simply want their kids to, as my employer’s motto implies, “learn English, learn the world.” Thus the parents usually have no real way to judge their children’s progress and are thrilled at every progressive vocab word their little one spouts out at home. Most of the time, this fact means that I don’t receive as many irate phone calls as I could by overzealous parents concerned about this or that. That’s good; one less thing).

This lack of full communication between my students and myself can sometimes have a silver lining, though. In an effort to keep myself sane, I will sometimes joke around with the kids or ask them questions that are clearly above their heads. For example, one of my young boys, Kevin, often wears white pants, Hawaiian shirts, and baby-blue slippers to class. I ask him if he is going to retire to Florida, what his yacht is like, how much the early bird special is at the dinner buffet, etc. He tends to look at me with a blank stare and then do an energetic dance which he kicks off with a loud “one, two, three four five!” before retaking his seat and continuing on as usual. It’s Lou Bega meets Morty Seinfeld and it’s absolutely hilarious.

Indeed, trying to communicate humour across cultures can definitely be difficult, but sometimes the attempt itself can be even more humorous than the joke you were trying to make in the first place. (I know I’ve already linked to this video but if you haven’t watched this whole clip please do so now; it’s the funniest 5 minutes of TV I’ve ever seen and I don’t even understand about 4.5 of them). Regardless of the comprehension of such, joking around with my kids in this way helps get me through my morning in one mental piece.

Every weekday morning brings with it the highest highs and the lowest lows. I have definitely created a new sweet spot in my heart for these adorable little monkeys and I finally understand the indescribable mixture of feelings that goes along with taking care of kids. It’s such a strange emotion to want to hug a kid until they burst because (s)he is being sooo adorable (my friend Mike calls this feeling ‘the squeezies’) but to simultaneously want to throttle him/her because she is being sooo difficult. “Love/Hate” doesn’t even begin to describe it.

If there’s one thing I have improved it’s my kindergarten tact. There are about a million things I will never understand that go on in a young child’s brain. Roughly 90% of the problems they come to you with, however, can be solved simply by reacting in a way they didn’t expect.

Mind-boggling kinder act #47401: picking incessantly at a tiny scratch on their hand until they draw blood. I would say that each and every one of my kids has done this at least once (and some do it multiple times daily). I usually catch them staring intently at their hand and tell them to stop picking their wound, but if I don’t catch it in time I will inevitably have them shoving their tiny hand in my face and saying “Teacher, owie!” with a tiny speck of blood barely visible on some spot or other. It is at this point that, rather than encourage the attention-seeking tears I see welling up in their eyes, I decide to go the other route. “Wow, what a great injury! I bet that hurts a lot! Good job for not letting it get to you! Now don’t pick it and it will go away.” Then I smile and tickle them a little. They are usually too confused and tickled to remember to cry so instead they laugh and, 9 times out of 10, forget what they came to me for in the first place and return to their seat grinning. (Note: this tactic also works for minor bumps and scrapes of all kinds and even the occasional fight).

You may have noticed that I said I tickle my kids frequently. While some of you may be reaching for the phone to call protective services and/or Korean immigration right now, I ensure you that physical contact with the children is very much encouraged here. Personally I feel this is a necessary and very positive thing when working with children. Encouraging pats on the backs or hugs of condolence can make a world of difference to a young child and my kids always want as much love as I can possibly afford to give them. This is a welcome reprieve from the cold, lawsuit-fearing ethos of early childhood education back home. Indeed, loving physical contact is a near-completely indispensible part of my job and I both give and receive more hugs each day now than I can possibly count. I also tend to pick the kids up, two at a time, and spin them around above my head every now and then when they are really good.

Yes they love this and no I am not kidding.

As for the curriculum, there really is a hell of a lot expected from these kids. In addition to the ‘big gym’ and ‘play gym’ periods typical at any school, there is also a good 2 hours of book learning to get through each day. (‘Play gym’ at my school is a small room that is equipped with a ballin’ jungle gym complete with a padded floor, slide, climbing mesh, and all the rest. Someone always cries there). The books range from math to phonics to vocabulary lessons. The lessons are fairly easy, but the pace is quick and there’s a lot of material to get through for a near-ADD 5-year-old. I am consistently shocked with the high expectations but more often than not the kids meet all of their lofty objectives and then some. This kind of success makes me realise just how lax the public school curriculum is back in Canada and why all of the world’s richest and most successful people will have epicanthic folds in 50 years.

All told I would have to say that kindergarten teaching takes up a hell of a lot of mental energy but that it is about worth it at the end of the day. It is definitely tough entering a full 5 hours of fast-paced academic teaching after playing daddy for 3 hours each morning, but I survive. It’s so nice to get the love and appreciation a kindergarten class offers you, be it in the form of the praise of happy parents or the smiling hugs of a little kid. It is just heart-melting to be walking down the hall outside of class and have one of my students spot me. His eyes will light up and as he makes a beeline for my leg, arms outstretched in an anticipatory hug screaming “Blake Teacher!!” and grabs onto me like I was his favourite thing on the planet. Sometimes, on a bad day, this sentiment is worth all the headaches in the world. Except, of course, when the kid has just peed himself. This happens as well.

Next up: the other 5 hours of my day.