Lessons From My Students

I recently came to the realization that, at this point in my life, I spend the vast majority of my time in the company of children (and to make it even stranger, children who understand only about 50% of what I say, but that's another story). What I enjoy most about that fact (and I'm certainly no Humbert Humbert so don't get any ideas) is that I think it has changed my perspective on the world: I am far less jaded than I was previously. Without further adieu, here are three lessons that I've learned from observing my students.

1. "Rock, paper, scissors" solves all disputes
It's a very simple method of conflict resolution that is virtually universal no matter what you call it (my students call it "Rock, scissors, paper" and one of my teacher's books calls it "Paper, scissors, stone," so clearly there isn't a consensus on its title). Most of my students are extremely competitive. On days when we have one-on-one interviews, when it's time to read out loud in class, or especially when it's time to decide who will go first on game day; basically any time they have to take turns doing anything they crowd around me screaming "Me first!" at the top of their lungs. So, I tell them "Rock, paper, scissors" and immediately they begin shaking their fists and within a couple of minutes everything has been sorted out. And the best part is that (usually) there is no further dispute. If only adult conflicts were this easy to resolve!

2. "Hangman" never gets old
Often, it is difficult for my students to remain focused on the lesson for an entire half hour. For some, their attention span doesn't extend much beyond sixty seconds, especially in the second half-hour of the hour most of them spend at the academy each day. Thus, it is necessary to have a fall back position when the lesson goes down the tubes. Personally, I find my sanctuary in "Hangman," the spelling contest game. For some reason, my students never tire of trying to guess which of their vocabulary words I've chosen to test them on this time. Sure, it's a game and I'm supposed to be teaching them something, but I think some of them learn more from "Hangman" than they do from reluctantly sitting through my lessons, blatantly ignoring me the entire time. At least with "Hangman," they are somewhat engaged. Also, my skills at the game have become quite formidable.

3. Age matters
Sorry Aaliyah, but age is of the utmost concern in Korea. This part of Korean culture actually deserves more explanation than I'm going to give it here, but suffice it to say that Koreans are very age-conscious. There are different words that are used to refer to people who are older or younger than you, and chingu, which is sometimes mistakenly equated with the English "friend," is only used to refer to a friend who is of the same age as you. Employment of honorifics also depends on knowing the age of your conversation partner. There have been a few occasions when one of my fellow wayguk friends (although, we're not chingu) has invited some Korean friends from the university to join us for dinner and the younger ones have later told him that they don't feel comfortable accepting the invitation if they know that they'll be in the company of their "seniors." Another example of how important a role age plays: one of my classes informed me that when they meet someone for the first time the first question they ask is "What's your name?" and then they ask "How old are you?" Age-ism plays out in several different ways in the classroom. At its most benign, it means that younger students usually defer to the older students in classroom games, and if they don't they are quickly reminded of their place in the age hierarchy. At the other end of the spectrum, it can be used by older students to justify their bullying of younger students. In one of my classes, the older students constantly harass the youngest student in the class, sometimes driving him to tears. As much as I try to do my best to police it, there's not much I can do as an outsider.

So as not to end on a sour note, I'll relate one of today's cuter episodes. I have a class that is comprised of three very spoiled and precocious young girls who, for most of the past three months, have battled tooth and nail with me to keep from doing their lessons and have delighted in calling me babo, which loosely translates as "stupid" or "dummy." I had been surprisingly tolerant of their insubordination, and then last week something changed in them and now I am suddenly the "best teacher ever." Today after one-on-one interviews, they locked me out of the classroom while they wrote something on the whiteboard. Once they let me back in, I figured I would be confronted with notes reading "Teacher is babo" and pictures of me in a dress, which also never cease to amuse them. Instead, they had each drawn a heart and written "Teacher, I am vary (sic), vary, vary, vary sorry. You is not babo, you is chunjae (which means "genius")." I was honestly touched. Now if we can just fix those grammar and spelling errors...

Makeshift Thanksgiving

Yesterday's Thanksgiving feast turned out to be a smashing success, even without a turkey. In the end, Jessica and I decided not to substitute anything for the missing bird, which meant that we had a vegetarian Thanksgiving. The menu included mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, acorn squash, creamed onions, sweet potato casserole (all prepared by yours truly), a spinach and cheese torte and crescent rolls (made by Jessica):














And of course, le piece de resistance, apple pie:














Tracking down the ingredients for some of these dishes was difficult. Korean cuisine does not feature many baked goods, and thus I had to make a pie crust without shortening and bake the pie in a pie plate crafted out of some small aluminum dishes (surprisingly, I was able to find pecans for the topping to the sweet potato casserole). We began cooking everything Friday night after work, finally stopping around 2:00 in the morning to sleep, and then it was back to work at 7:30 in the morning. Finally, all of the dishes were ready around 2:30, just in time for the first guests to arrive. I was unsure of how many people would be coming as the guest list was up in the air right up until the meal itself, so I was a little worried that we wouldn't have enough food. But in the end, eight people showed up in addition to Jessica and myself:














From left to right they are: Richard, a business management professor at Ulsan University (whom I'd never met before, but we brought homemade chocolate chip cookies so he's alright), Su-ok, Melissa, Kang, Brandon, In-seok, Yu-ran, and Yeong-in. A good time was had by all, and in true Thanksgiving fashion we had plenty of leftovers.

Thanks go to Mom, Grandma, and Brandon's grandmother for their recipes.

Happy 60th Dad

Taking a break from all things Korean to wish my father a happy 60th birthday today! Have a great day, retirement is that much closer.

Wild Turkey Chase...

... and I don't mean the bourbon. Yesterday, my roommate and I set out in search of a turkey for the Thanksgiving dinner that we are hosting for some friends here next weekend. Turkey is not a staple in Korean grocery stores, or department store markets for that matter, so it is much more difficult to find than most of the other traditional Thanksgiving dishes. And since it is the centerpiece of Thanksgiving dinner, we have been eagerly trying to procure one. Word has it that Costco, the American wholesale warehouse chain, occasionally stocks turkeys, and so we traveled north of Ulsan to the nearest Costco location in Daegu. To make a long story short, we didn't find any turkeys, but we did find some foods that we'd been without since leaving the States, which was nice, and another item that is always on my family's Thanksgiving table: Martinelli's sparkling cider. So, it looks as if we will have a turkey-less Thanksgiving, but one must make concessions. Now all that's left is to actually prepare the other parts of the meal; hopefully it'll be a success even without the dead bird.

Lil' Jon Eat Your Heart Out

Another one of Lotte's treats, not so much a "Chunky" bar as it is a "Krackel."

Crunk: 1. (noun) A type of rap originating in the Southern United States. 2 (adjective) US slang; crazy and drunk.

Seoraksan

This past weekend, my boss, Mr. Park, invited my roommate Jessica and me to join him on a trek to Seoraksan, widely hailed by les habitants as the premier example of natural beauty in (South) Korea. Mr. Park had mentioned the idea of this trip to me during our trip to Shinbulsan earlier, but said that we would have to wait until November after he had completed his exam for a real estate license. As late as Friday, neither Jessica or I knew exactly what we were getting into. Mr. Park informed us as we left work that we should be ready at 5:50 A.M. the next morning so we could hit the road for the six-hour drive North to Seoraksan National Park (quite near the border with North Korea, actually). What we didn't expect was that Mr. Park had also invited several members of his extended family: one younger sister and her husband, three nieces, and three nephews (two of whom are students at Elite). We all piled into a van with very little leg room and settled in for a long ride. About an hour later we stopped for breakfast (gimbap and udon noodles) at a highway rest stop, which was much nicer than any rest stop I've ever seen in the States (it even had a koi pond!). Finally, after several rounds of "Uno" with the children, we arrived in Inju, on the West side of Seoraksan, and so began a series of misadventures. The first trailhead Mr. Park wanted to take had been washed out in the floods this summer, so instead we took a hair-raising bus trip to Baekdamsa














a Buddhist temple that houses a wooden statue of the Buddha that is considered the most outstanding statue of the early 18th century. We intended to hike along the river running alongside the temple, but the children were exhausted, so we headed over to the East side of Seoraksan to take a cable car to the top of one of the epaks. Unfortunately, we arrived to late and the line was too long for us to hope to get on before sunset, so we began what became a three hour search for the condo we were staying in that night. By the time we finally found it, all I wanted to do was sleep.

Sunday was much more successful. We set out for the cable car we had attempted to take the previous day, and even though we arrived relatively early, we couldn't reserve a spot on the ride until 3:00 PM. Mr. Park told me that probably between 30,000 and 50,000 people would pass through this part of the park that day, so it wasn't a big surprise that we would have to wait. So, in the meantime, we decided to hike up Ulsanbawi ("Ulsan Rock").














It's no coincidence that it shares its name with the city I currently reside in. According to legend, the sky God called upon all of the great peaks on the Korean peninsula to come together to form Keumgangsan (in present-day North Korea), thus making it the most beautiful mountain in Korea. Ulsanbawi represented Ulsan, but he was too late in arriving at Keumgangsan to get an ideal spot, so he headed back to Ulsan. However, his heavy weight soon made him tired and instead he decided to rest at his present site because of its prime view of Seoraksan. The trek up to Ulsanbawi itself included climbing one of the sketchiest iron steps/ladders I've ever seen,



















but as you can see for yourself, the view was worth it:














Afterwards, we had to race back down to the cable car














in order to make it in time for our reservation, which we did, just barely. Here are a couple of views from the top of the peak at the cable car's terminus:




























Finally, it was time to head back to Ulsan. We arrived back in Cheonsang around 11:30 PM, just in time to take a shower, hop into bed, and get some rest for another week of teaching. In summation, here are some more pictures from the excursion that I liked. First, a shot of me, Jessica, Mr. Park, his sister, and all of the children:














Second, the gigantic bronze Buddha statue at Shinhungsa, a temple near the cable car route:



















And finally, my favorite photo, a stone pagoda with Seoraksan in the background:

Pepero Day

In Japan they call it "Pocky," and in Korea they call it "Pepero." Basically, it's just a sweet-wafer stick covered in chocolate. According to my roommate, this particular candy is available back home in the States, although I can't verify that (however, she is from the West Coast, and I don't like candy, so I'll take her word for it). What makes this snack significant is the unofficial holiday that surrounds it, which occurred this past Saturday. In the "Western World" November 11th marks Armistice Day/Veterans Day, the day the "war to end all wars" officially ended at the 11th hour (if only that sentiment had rung true for the remainder of the bloodiest century in the history of humanity). However, for children and young lovers in "Far East" Asia, November 11th marks the day when people exchange Pepero/Pocky in the spirit of friendship and love. According to some, Pepero Day was first celebrated at a girl's school in Busan in 1994 and has since become a nationwide event. Whether one believes the foundational myth or not, one thing is certain: Lotte, the corporation which makes the official Pepero snack and backs other economic ventures on the peninsula that are too numerous to cite here, has made a killing off of the similarity between its snack food and the "11/11 sticks" of November 11th.

Jessica and I both decided that it would be wise to join in the fun last Friday and thus we invested heavily in Lotte's product and distributed the sweet sticks to our students. We were also recipients of Pepero love; most of the students who gave me gifts were the ones I expected would do so, but there were a few surprises as well. My students don't really need an excuse to consume candy (they always have some sort of sweet during class time, and I've never seen more cavities and fillings in children so young before), but I didn't feel so guilty about supplying their sugar addiction on this occasion. It felt nice to be included in their fun.

Another date-related candy-holiday that I neglected to mention earlier (because my students neglected to celebrate it properly) is "Thin-Thin Day," which falls on October 10th. The "th" sound is absent from the Korean language, and thus "Thin-Thin" becomes "Tin-Tin," which sounds enough like "Ten-Ten" aka "10/10" for the association to be drawn.














I know the picture is fairly low quality, but the caption on the box reads "Slim style chocolate for girls: The smile will make happy and joyful time." In my humble opinion, Pepero taste much better than Thin-Thins. Here's hoping the candy companies haven't figured out how to exploit December 12th yet.

Meanwhile, In Ulsan

I am pleased to announce that I am now reconnected to the outside world as my new computer has arrived safely in Cheonsang. A lot has happened since my last post, so I'll take this opportunity to catch my faithful (and not-so-faithful) readers up on goings on here on the peninsula.

The first event worthy of note was an aborted trip to the Paraeso waterfall two weekends ago, which ended up being worth it as my roommate, Jessica, and I found ourselves wandering around the beauty that is Seongnamsa, a Buddhist temple operated by a group of nuns outside of Eonyang:














Seongnamsa was established in 824 C.E., during the Silla Dynasty period, and was last renovated in 1957. Typical of temples in Korea, it has some wonderfully vibrant, painted eaves and roofs. Here are some detailed examples:














Seongnamsa is also the site of a stone stupa (Korean National Treasure #369) that is said to contain the ashes (sarira) of the Monk Douiguksa, who founded the temple. This particular stupa is considered one of the best examples of stone masonry from the Silla period:














Apparently, Seongnamsa is a typical "date" location for the youth of Ulsan, and thus our trip there quickly became fodder for rumors among the Koreans that Jessica and I were dating (which certainly isn't the case, just to clarify things). So, for those of you in the Ulsan area looking for a new spot to take your squeeze, hop on the 807 and ride it all the way to the end of the line.

The other noteworthy event was our impromptu Halloween party at Elite. Many of the hagwons traditionally throw a party on the Friday before Halloween (as far as I could tell from what my students told me, Halloween isn't a big event in Korea, as to be expected, but the younger children, especially those who have had some exposure to Anglo-American hegemony, enjoy any excuse to don costumes and eat candy). Before our school became an "Elite" franchise earlier this year, it was a "GnB," which has several hagwons throughout Ulsan. Apparently, GnB always had a big Halloween party, and many of our students who remember the GnB days expected that Elite would do the same. However, as Halloween approached, there was no indication that we would be marking the occasion in any significant way. Every day it seemed my students would ask, "When are we having our party?" and I would sheepishly inform them that there would be no party this year (Jessica's students became downright mutinous). On the morning of Halloween, Jessica and I discussed how we would try to incorporate some sort of All Hallow's Eve theme into the day's lesson, fearful of the sure-to-be-disappointed students. To our surprise, the Korean teachers had made a spur of the moment decision to give into popular demand and as we were planning our lessons, they arrived with several cases of snacks and drinks. They proceeded to lead the younger students in mask-making activities. Some Halloween decorations were hurriedly placed around the entryway and soon it became clear that no actual learning would get done that day. Although it was all fun and games for the students, it was a bit more frustrating and exhausting for the unsuspecting and unprepared wayguk teachers (gotta love those healthy lines of communication between us and the Korean teachers!). Never has work seemed more like glorified baby-sitting, and never have I seen the classrooms so trashed. At least the kids had fun. Jessica has a great picture from the day on her Flickr site, just follow the link to take a peek.

Finally, fall has officially arrived in Ulsan, and its arrival was quite sudden. One week, we were still wearing T-shirts and sweating it out in the hazy air, and then we woke up on Monday morning to temperatures in the mid-40s (Fahrenheit) and colorful foliage. I'll end this post with a picture of the changing leaves Munsu-san taken from my balcony:

R.I.P. Clifford Geertz

I know I'm a couple of days late on this, but I felt I had to post something about the passing of Professor Geertz (thanks to Nell and Majid for bringing it to my attention; the death of an eminent American anthropologist isn't exactly big news in Korea). Although I didn't always agree with his writings (and I still think "Balinese Cockfight" simply points out the obvious), he was certainly one of the giants of the field and indirectly had a significant impact on my life and my decision to study Anthropology.