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.

A Vast Improvement

Last week I get a note on my desk at work saying that the administration wanted to talk to me about my apartment. Dubious as that sounded, it turned out to be good news; a new place had become available! Due to some confusing apartment shuffling of the staff members at our school for mundane reasons, I was offered to move into a much swankier building than the one in which I had been living. The only catch was that it was a little bit pricier per month for both the utilities and administrative fees than what I had been paying. (While the schools here cover your rent, all utilities and building ‘maintenance fees’ are your own responsibility). The total cost of my bills had been around 25 000 won per month but that would about double at my new place. I still have to get adjusted to the high cost of electricity here in Korea as I am used to my energy bills being extremely low. In fact, the monthly amount I am used to paying is among the lowest in the world considering that Montreal is the headquarters of the world’s largest hydroelectric producing company. In an effort to be a good human as well as save money, then, I am now taking much more conscious actions toward saving energy than I ever have before. (That is to say, my power bill last month shocked me considering how tiny my place was).

Wasteful energy practices, aside, then, 300 bucks more a year is definitely worth it to get out of that stanky-ass funhouse I was calling home.

The Charmant, as my new building is endearingly named, is a cross between a luxury high-rise and a Bentham-esque panopticon because of the way it is laid out. It is a large right-angle triangle with each apartment facing outward but overlooking a peaceful inner courtyard. There is also easy roof access which allows a gorgeous view of the town and a full-time snoozing security guard on alert in the front foyer for reasons yet to be determined considering how safe everything is here.

As for the apartment itself, it is not a studio like my last place was, but rather has a full 3 separate rooms including a full bathroom. I say “full” implying not that it has a tub as one would find in the decadent west, but rather that it has a shower that offers a hands-free, stick-to-the-wall humane cleaning experience. It’s on the 9th floor of the building and has an automatic motion-sensor light in the front hall which makes me feel like a robot is silently welcoming me home. (It kind of is). I’ve got a couch and a real-sized table and chair this time, as well as an extra bed in the front room in case I want to play host to passing couchsurfers.

The view from my bedroom window.

With respect to locale, I am still just a short jaunt away from my school. In fact, I only moved about 500m down the road from my old place. If you look at the satellite image of my old apartment in my post about such you can easily point out the triangle I call home not too far from my old pad. See it? It’s the triangle.

Perhaps the funniest and simultaneously most disconcerting thing about my new place is its fire escape. With little or no extant fire safety coding for the buildings here, none of the apartments in my building have balconies or fire escapes. Rather, there is simply a large, well-fastened eyelet screwed into the wall near the window with the words “simple descending life line” written above it.

No stairs.
No rope.
Just an eyelet.





I am yet to pick up a rope that reaches a full 9 stories but I suppose in a pinch my Ethernet cord will let me at least peer into my downstairs neighbours’ place shortly before my toasty demise.

Fire hazards aside, this place is frickin’ awesome. If my last place was quirky but totally liveable, this one is pure paradise.

The view from the roof 1 (Notice the beautiful cherry blossoms).

The view from the roof 2 (Notice the beautiful smog).

Sorry if you fell asleep this week. I had received a lot of requests about getting a rundown of my new place and it’s hard to make an apartment sound exciting if it doesn’t smell like sewage or have comic book wallpaper. I promise next time I will get into much less mundane matters. Cheers until then.

Football!

Since moving here I have found myself exploring all manner of new taste experiences. While I still promise to post soon on the gastronomic acid trips of my new life, today I am focusing on a less edible but no less important new taste adventure: that of sport

Here in Korea, hockey is out. The Habs have, once again, struggled desperately to just barely make the NHL playoffs. Even if they were doing well, I am now situated a good 10,000 km from their home rink – a little far to go even if they were to win the cup (oh please don’t let them win the cup when I’m not there). Accordingly I must satiate my thirst for watching dudes fight each other over an object and two nets some other way.

If you are like the majority of humans on this planet, Association football (hereafter referred to as football) was likely already your favourite sport. For me, though, this is somewhat of a new experience. Having now been to a few games, I can honestly say that I passively appreciate the sport, if not out-and-out love it. To me it seems like a more violent, more graceful, and ultimately more boring and slower-paced version of ice hockey with a lot less bloodshed and a lot more diving. Regardless of my extremely biased opinion of it, however, as a spectator sport football is unarguably second-to-none.

A few weeks ago I took the bus to nearby Suwon City with some of my friends to watch the local Suwon Blue Wings play the visiting Jeju Stingers. Suji is located pretty much halfway between Seoul and Suwon but is slightly closer and more accessible to the latter so this has become our default home team. (The bus each way costs about 60 cents, whereas it’s a whopping 1.50 to get into Seoul). Upon getting off the bus, the full monstrosity of the local stadium truly revealed itself. In case you forgot or never cared in the first place, Korea was the host country of the 2002 World Cup. This means that brand-new, state-of-the-art stadiums were erected in big cities all across the country to accommodate the influx of international soccer hooligans. This thing was massive. The capacity is a mind-blowing 43,000 and I can safely say that the bathroom facilities outside the stadium offered me my first chance to pee inside a big soccer ball.

As we were milling around the outside gate before the game started, the inevitable scalper soon meandered up to us and asked in broken English if we had our tickets for the game yet. (Note – I use the term ‘scalper’ here because I did not know the non-offensive, non-culturally deprecating word for these guys, although Wikipedia informs me it is tout. If you’re not British, did you know this word? Everybody take a moment to reflect on how deep-seeded racism is in the modern English language). Showing the tout our season passes (mine borrowed from an absent friend), we politely said that we already had them and he politely nodded knowingly in response. Before parting ways, though, he decided he would strike up a little chit-chat with us “waygus” (foreigners) for reasons of sheer friendliness. Upon hearing that my friend Matt and I were from Canada, his eyes lit up: “Oh! Yes, all you Canadians are so beautiful! You, sir (gesturing to myself): Mr. Brad Pitt! You, sir (gesturing to Matt): Mr. Dustin Hoffman! Canadians so pretty!” Matt and I were too overcome with the novelty of being compared to some of the arbitrarily-voted sexiest men alive to debate. We simply laughed off the obtuse compliment and thanked the man before he bowed to us and went on his way. I still don’t know what kind of commentary can be made on a place in which I am being likened to famous movie stars, but perhaps it’s best not to think about it.

Left to right: Mr. Dustin Hoffman, Mr. Brad Pitt, and Steve

Anyway, the game finally started as we found our seats among the die-hardiest of avid Suwon fans. Amidst the sea of blue jerseys we were able to secure a place behind the goal and fairly close to the front row. Smack-dab in the middle of the hometown’s cheering section, I was soon struck by the extremely bizarre nature of 2 normally mundane fan rituals: 1) the flags, and 2) the chants.

As for the flags, well, just look at this picture. I am still unsure of what exactly Argentine revolutionaries have to do with South Korean football teams, but I have resigned myself to never finding out. This is one of those “dude, it’s just Korea” things that make me grin with confusion and nod my head vigorously in mock understanding. I’m unsure of what the other one in the picture says, but another giant flag I spotted there depicted some sort of happy skeleton with its disjointed bones spelling out the word ‘Suwon’. Again; smile and nod.

The chants were something else entirely. I am now more committed than ever to understanding Korean, if for no other reason than to sing along with clarity to what is said before and after “ooooOOO Suwon Happy Happy Go!!” in the 30 second-ish song repeated incessantly throughout the game.

As for stadium refreshments, I cannot comment on the food as I did not partake in any. I was surprised to find, though, that the usual got-you-by-the-gametes 900% mark-up on alcohol products so oft seen at venues such as this was pleasantly absent here. A misshapen 1L plastic bottle of Cass went for a cool 4000 won – a mark-up, to be sure, but a price reasonable enough to get proper tipsy whilst shouting yourself hoarse to live sports. Here is one place in Korea where heartless capitalism has still not punctuated where it so easily could; let’s hope it stays that way.

Right to left: Mr. Brad Pitt, Mr. Dustin Hoffman, and Colin

I will say right now that the actual game of footie itself absolutely sucked. The home team lost 1-0 and both teams played rather terribly. Again, I’m no football buff, but it just seemed like the calibre wasn’t all that fantastic – an observation corroborated by the Irishman sitting next to me. In the end, though, that couldn’t have mattered less. I got my money’s worth (it was free), and I got a decent buzz going for mad cheap.

Last weekend I attended another Suwon game – this one as a visiting team supporter when they played Seoul FC in Seoul. I hadn’t thought it would be possible, but the stadium was bigger, the beer cheaper, and the home team fans even more raucous than in Suwon. The place was so massive that it almost put The Big Owe to shame. Except for these slight alterations, though, the game was pretty much the same.

Ultimately I feel that it doesn’t really matter if I wholly enjoy the sport I’m watching or not. Regardless of whether it’s football, cricket, or geriatric lawn darts, I eagerly anticipate my future ventures into the wild world of sports spectatorship here on this side of the globe. If you care to read a similar report of a foreigner’s experience watching the Suwon Blue Wings with more photos than I offer here, please check out my co-worker friend Allan’s experience of a different game on his own blog, linked on the upper right panel here for future reference.

Next up: the even newer digs.

Bitch, Bitch, Bitch

Sometimes, trying to adjust to the subtleties of a new culture and language can result in sheer hilarity. Other times, it’s extreme frustration. The following is a shortlist of the 4 most aggravating (albeit minor) everyday life experiences here that are just a little too far away from my usual patience or comfort level to be considered ‘interesting.’

1) The Traffic Lights Take Too Damn Long
Coming from Montreal where jaywalking and a general disrespect for traffic laws of any nature reign supreme, this aspect of my Korean life is extremely frustrating. I am one of the most impatient people you will ever meet. (This becomes a downright hilarious character trait when you consider I work with young children, but I will address that in a future post). Accordingly, I hate having to waste my (admittedly not-so precious) time waiting for mundane things like passing vehicles. The average red light wait time for a pedestrian here is over 2 minutes which, if you’re me, is forever. However, everyone here tends to drive like a maniac and people usually treat red lights as little more than yield signs, breezing through them smoother than a Québecois stop sign. To save from becoming the next sidewalk stain, then, I am forced to wait out the duration of each eternal red man in impatient, neck-vein-throbbing agony.

2) The Beer is Terrible
I must first admit that I drink a lot more beer here than I normally do at home (admittedly already a fairly large amount). I can assure you, though, that this increase in consumption stems solely from the fact that it is disgustingly cheap and is in no means a head nod to the fine proprietors of South Korean macrobrews. It’s so bad that the leading brand – Cass – has marketed itself as having (or perhaps being the emobodiment of, I’m not sure which) the “sound of vitality.” When a beverage markets itself on an entirely different freakin’ SENSE, you know it can’t be good. The other competitors, Hite and OB Blue, have decided that their product is so terrible that it can be packaged in soulless, rotund, misshapen 1-litre plastic resealable bottles and nobody will notice the difference. What’s better than a day old beer after you’ve popped the top back on her because you just couldn’t finish those last 200mls last night, right?

Just how bad is it? Well, first, think of American beer. I know, right? OK now imagine that you added a little more water, took away a little bit of alcohol, and added a little bit more carbonation. So now you have a lightly beer-flavoured carbonated ass beverage. I know, right? OK now picture the vats at the brewery spilling all over the men’s room floor and the janitor ringing the mop of this new mixture back into the vats shortly before bottling. Am I making my point?

At least it’s cheap.


3) There Aren’t Any Grains
Unless you count the vile (likely synthetic) hops passing for grain in a plastic bottle of Hite, there are no grains (or indeed grain products) to be found in Korea save for the starchiest of white rice. I finally located a pseudo-grained product at the chain bakery Paris Baguette, but this was more like a loaf of Wonder Bread with the odd flax seed shoved inside than a true loaf of what I consider actual bread. Sure there’s the odd sandwich about, but everything here is made on stuff so bleached, sweet, and unhealthy, it would actually make Wonder Bread look like pumpernickel. As a result of these options my white rice consumption – and accordingly the flab around my midsection – has increased significantly; empty carbs are cheaper and more ubiquitous than a frosty pint of Cass in these parts. On second thought, the beer increase is likely where half the gut is coming from.

4) The Air Quality is On Par with Chernobyl
Feeling flabby and out of shape from the abovementioned factors, I recently made the horrible mistake of going for a jog outside to explore my new city from a running perspective. This was all well and good at the time and indeed I enjoyed my athletic jaunt in the crisp spring air for at least a few hours afterward.

Then came the wheezing. Then the coughing, then the phlegm, then the sore throat. Upon admitting what I had done to my coworkers the next day they all chastised me for having been so reckless with my health. Indeed, how could you even dream of expending energy... outside? It didn’t take me long to realise there was a strong correlation between the nasty gray sky I talked about earlier, the influx of springtime Yellow Dust I also mentioned, and that nasty feeling in my head, throat, and entire respiratory tract.

The next day I came down with a vicious cold that I still have not fully gotten over. I attribute the cause of this cold mostly to my ill-planned run in the poison air, although working in a small school is probably a main contributor as well. There are hundreds of little kids at my school who, while some wear sani-masks outside of class to appease their parents, have not actually been taught the germ theory of disease yet in any great depth. These kids will literally cough in your face from point-blank range and absent-mindedly rub their snot-covered fingers on your bare skin in an attempt to get your attention (twice now); I’m guessing my immune system just wasn’t up for the challenge.

Kids aside, the putrid air also has its other drawbacks. In addition to the wheezing, my complexion is probably the worst it has been since grade 11 when I was at the apex of my awkward pimple-ridden pubescence. All told, I would probably have to say it is the consistent inability to breathe properly or exercise at all in the great outdoors here that has been the biggest bane of my life in Korea.


Yes, I can be complainy and bitter at times. If these 4 things are the most frustrating I have to complain about, though, then really – I’m doing pretty well.