I love books.
I love 'em, can't help it, I am a card carrying bibliophile. I adore books and I love reading. In college, one of my all time favorite classes was on the history of books. I feel like few academic experiences I have had have been so demanding and so rewarding as my time studying books themselves.
Sadly, as is often the case with working in the Humanities, the excessive reading of a full course load often leaves a student with little time or energy to read for fun (especially if he hopes to have some semblance of a social life as well). So for a time my fervor for reading was squelched by my educational demands (and the demands of sleep). Yet, since graduating, I have gradually been rekindling my love of reading and my joy of books.
However, in Korea, (English) books are a bit harder to come by than back home. Sadly, book shops are not frequent in this country and English bookstores are even harder to locate. So far I have encountered one English bookstore in Korea (What The Book in Seoul, a fine little place with an embracing atmosphere that is the best of both a retail book seller and a secondhand shop). I adore bookstores, especially ones that are not retail chains. Bookstores, like cafes, have a certain air about them, perhaps even a mythical quality. We enter them with thoughts of a different reality, a peculiar place that's betwixt and between everyday life. An arsenal of imaginative or informative escapes safely housed under one roof. A place where one can leisurely stroll between crowded and often unorganized shelves to the heart's content. To wander and to find, almost serendipitously, a book that meets your needs. I wish I could say every bookstore experience is like that, sadly that's not the case.
Though I sincerely believe nothing can replace the bookstore experience, I confess I have made a transition I never thought I would.... I've moved to e-reading.
Though studies have shown that e-reading is a different experience from conventional reading (with a physical book), I find that is allows me to indulge in one of my favorite past times without throwing my paychecks away in bookstores. It is refreshing to be able to download masses of text that can be easily carried in one device. However, nothing is quite as frustrating as having your tablet e-reader act up when you just want to cozy up in bed and read a bit before dozing off to sleep. Even still, e-reading has allowed me to enjoy many long hours in my tiny apartment. With winter dipping well below freezing over the past week, bundling up in my bed with tea and book have been a blessed relief from the searing winter wind.
As I make my way deeper into another novel I can't help but reflect on the forgotten pleasures of solitude and quiet. Though I love the fast paced and energetic social life living in Korea has given me, I find I am eager to go home and curl up with my new books. Maybe I'm just eager to get back to my apartment so I can feel my toes again, but there is still something to be said for returning to that lost love of books. It feels like a time to sit down and live, not wallow away doing nothing, and not sitting contemplatively in idle loops of thought, but sit and enjoy the adventure locked away in words. It's a shame I can't share this love with my ESL students, it's something that comes to be quite naturally. I'm beginning to appreciate more and more the difficulty of teaching something that is second nature to you. It's like teaching somehow how to breathe or balance on one foot. Sure there is technique to it, but how do you tell someone about it? It's a difficulty that I find harder and harder to stare at as my time with my Middle School classes seem less and less fruitful. It's almost enough to make me learn Korean after being here for months and hardly learning a lick of it (but in my defense I've recently taken to learning Hangul, I can actually start pronouncing some it now!)
Yet professional and pedagogical anecdotes aside, I find that reading and books are a long neglected lover who I have come crawling back to in my hour of need. She had embraced me once more, offering worlds of wonder, words of wisdom, and knowledge beyond my wildest dreams. She has certainly changed in my time away from her, but like all old friends I feel right at home with her at my side. I have no intention of leaving her any time soon (especially if it stays this cold!)
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Language barrier bites again....
I'm not entirely sure if its the bitterly biting wind, the apathy of the end of semester, or the lackluster of the holidays here in Korea, but it has been almost impossible to focus on work lately. Consequentially, this procrastinating spirit may help save my sanity (explanation to follow)
Today began my first day of what many of us new Waygooks in Hongcheon have been dreading, winter camps. For some reason, Korean public schools don't think it's enough to have regular school in session through December (even though finals ended in the first week of that month) but they also have short intensive "camps" on school subjects. English Conversation, is one of said camps. I would explain how these camps are supposed to work, however, I honestly don't know. Like much of my experience with my Middle School staff, I am more or less told when and where I need to be (if I'm lucky) and what happens content wise is almost entirely at my discretion. Though I prefer this "hands off" sort of treatment to the horror of micromanaging co-teachers (a fate several of my fellow foreign teachers have been enduring), I find this freedom is often just enough rope to hang myself and nothing more.
My instructions for making a winter camp were as such
I arrived at school late, but not after the first class was meant to start. A few fresh inches of snow had fallen that morning and I was unable to take my usual bus to school (in fact it never even showed up) but thankfully another bus was going that way 20 minutes after my regular transport.
The English Room, was excruciatingly cold. I had to run downstairs to have the main office activate the heating units. Only to find that unlike every other time,the heating didn't kick on by itself. I examined the thermostat in the room and proceeded to poke at the indecipherable device for the first 30 minutes of the first class, dreading the arrival of my seven students.
To my joy and shame, they didn't arrive until the moment I got the heater running. Of the seven I was promised, five came, and the fifth left after the first period. (he claimed a "family reunion," not sure if that's a legitimate excuse, but who am I to stop him? I just marked him absent) Since there was only fifteen minutes left in the first class, I started my first lesson. Camp rules, and a silly quiz on what kind of character are you? (hero, sidekick, villain, or couch potato) Needless to say, 15 minutes of speaking over my students chattering in Korean was enough to tell me that nothing I had prepared was going to fly. If they won't listen to how they can get candy, they sure as hell won't be listening to how they can write their own comics! So the bell rings and my five students scatter for the first class break. I let loose a deep sigh in my cold classroom, upped the heat on the thermostat and broke out a deck of cards.
We proceeded to play card games for the next three hours. Granted I had a few other games (a box of jenga ties, some UNO cards, etc) but it was more or less a time to play games and throw out English words at my kids. I managed to teach them how to play Egyptian Rat Screw (which if you haven't played, is a lot like War).
A sad aside: teaching them that card game is likely the most effective lesson I've taught in Middle School yet....
During the day, students from other camps would wander into my room. Some would chat up my kids, or even join in for a round of cards. I had a couple students join my class from other camps, though I'm not sure why. I had one student walk into my class, sit in the back, playing on his cell phone. When I asked why he was there, he looked at me funny and another student said "Teacha! No class!" To which I asked him, "Why don't you go home?" He gave me a blank stare. "Go home?" I dumbed down, he smiled his polite "Well that's nice, but I don't understand" smile and went back to his cell phone. He eventually joined us for a couple games of UNO, but I never did find out where he was supposed to be....
I suppose it's good that I didn't invest any more time into my lessons (which I likely will scrap entirely for this camp) because I find that becoming interested or attached to lesson plans leads to greater disappointment when they flop.
The day lingered on until at last the fourth period ended. My students fled and I set about packing things up for tomorrow when a gaggle of older students burst into the English Room screaming and shouting.
I raised an eyebrow.
I'd already had a bunch of students come and go from my classroom that day, but this was different. When I asked what they were doing, one of them proceeded to mime and somewhat say "next class we have here!"
Crapbaskets, I peered around the room, at the computers I had disassembled, the desks I had rearranged, and the cables I had confiscated. My co-teacher mentioned another teacher was interested in using the computers, but when I asked him about it directly he said that I wasn't sharing the room.
I was wrong, the social studies teacher wanted to use 15 computers. For this, I felt both bad and annoyed. Annoyed on the simple fact that I had to putter about putting things away while waiting for the teacher to arrive (I'm more than hesitant to leave unruly students with so much equipment unsupervised, though now that I think about it, given the state of the English Room, I doubt anyone really cares if the kids are carving on the desks and popping keys off the keyboard). Though in all sincerity I felt bad for interfering with the social studies teacher's lesson by having to have her set up the computer lab again. I specifically asked if I needed to leave the computers plugged in for other teachers and was told I didn't have to. Once again, there is a fundamental lack of communication between my coworkers and I, specifically due to a lack of trying. I hate it when these awkward half konglish conversations happen because it puts everyone on the spot and no one seems to get what they want or need in a timely manner. I hate it because it feels unprofessional and ineffective, I can only imagine how my Korean counterparts feel about these common miscommuniques.
I left that haphazard class unsure if the social studies teacher had what she needed, and certain she could not communicate her needs if there was something. I skipped whatever lunch they had prepared and waited for the slow bus back to Hongcheon, my nose in a book. I had hoped that reading might quell the deep seated dissatisfaction I felt with the days farce of an educational experience.
I can understand how kids could be apathetic towards a language class, especially when forced to attend during regular classes, but this camp nonsense is an entirely new level! In theory, these camps are voluntary, but clearly none of these kids have the slightest interest in the language (nevermind their ability level). Yet, here they are, stranded in my care when we clearly cannot communicate anything but the most basic information back and forth. It's disturbing to imagine what my employers think this situation will accomplish other than waste everyone's time! I can understand that some kids need to be babysat during winter break, but if that's all they aim to do, then why the bother about making it a "camp?" No wonder kids are so resistive to learning a language they can't even have the option of electing to study, but are forced into it again and again!
It's times like these I feel that the education system here has no idea what it wants and doubly unsure of any way to get there.
Four more days of camp, let's hope my kids can follow me when I explain how to play Euchre with them. Doesn't seem like they're up for much of anything else....
P.S. I realize negativity is unbecoming and that there are plenty of blogs and forums about the annoyances of teaching in a Korean education system. I can't say I've completely given up (Hope still rides... if blindly) but you have to call a spade a spade. Even when it sucks.
Today began my first day of what many of us new Waygooks in Hongcheon have been dreading, winter camps. For some reason, Korean public schools don't think it's enough to have regular school in session through December (even though finals ended in the first week of that month) but they also have short intensive "camps" on school subjects. English Conversation, is one of said camps. I would explain how these camps are supposed to work, however, I honestly don't know. Like much of my experience with my Middle School staff, I am more or less told when and where I need to be (if I'm lucky) and what happens content wise is almost entirely at my discretion. Though I prefer this "hands off" sort of treatment to the horror of micromanaging co-teachers (a fate several of my fellow foreign teachers have been enduring), I find this freedom is often just enough rope to hang myself and nothing more.
My instructions for making a winter camp were as such
- You have seven students (originally five, but they added two girls 10 minutes later)
- You teach from period 1-4 (approximately 9 - 12:40)
- Your camp is 5 days (Wednesday - Friday, Monday & Tuesday the following week)
- Lessons can be about anything.
I arrived at school late, but not after the first class was meant to start. A few fresh inches of snow had fallen that morning and I was unable to take my usual bus to school (in fact it never even showed up) but thankfully another bus was going that way 20 minutes after my regular transport.
The English Room, was excruciatingly cold. I had to run downstairs to have the main office activate the heating units. Only to find that unlike every other time,the heating didn't kick on by itself. I examined the thermostat in the room and proceeded to poke at the indecipherable device for the first 30 minutes of the first class, dreading the arrival of my seven students.
To my joy and shame, they didn't arrive until the moment I got the heater running. Of the seven I was promised, five came, and the fifth left after the first period. (he claimed a "family reunion," not sure if that's a legitimate excuse, but who am I to stop him? I just marked him absent) Since there was only fifteen minutes left in the first class, I started my first lesson. Camp rules, and a silly quiz on what kind of character are you? (hero, sidekick, villain, or couch potato) Needless to say, 15 minutes of speaking over my students chattering in Korean was enough to tell me that nothing I had prepared was going to fly. If they won't listen to how they can get candy, they sure as hell won't be listening to how they can write their own comics! So the bell rings and my five students scatter for the first class break. I let loose a deep sigh in my cold classroom, upped the heat on the thermostat and broke out a deck of cards.
We proceeded to play card games for the next three hours. Granted I had a few other games (a box of jenga ties, some UNO cards, etc) but it was more or less a time to play games and throw out English words at my kids. I managed to teach them how to play Egyptian Rat Screw (which if you haven't played, is a lot like War).
A sad aside: teaching them that card game is likely the most effective lesson I've taught in Middle School yet....
During the day, students from other camps would wander into my room. Some would chat up my kids, or even join in for a round of cards. I had a couple students join my class from other camps, though I'm not sure why. I had one student walk into my class, sit in the back, playing on his cell phone. When I asked why he was there, he looked at me funny and another student said "Teacha! No class!" To which I asked him, "Why don't you go home?" He gave me a blank stare. "Go home?" I dumbed down, he smiled his polite "Well that's nice, but I don't understand" smile and went back to his cell phone. He eventually joined us for a couple games of UNO, but I never did find out where he was supposed to be....
I suppose it's good that I didn't invest any more time into my lessons (which I likely will scrap entirely for this camp) because I find that becoming interested or attached to lesson plans leads to greater disappointment when they flop.
The day lingered on until at last the fourth period ended. My students fled and I set about packing things up for tomorrow when a gaggle of older students burst into the English Room screaming and shouting.
I raised an eyebrow.
I'd already had a bunch of students come and go from my classroom that day, but this was different. When I asked what they were doing, one of them proceeded to mime and somewhat say "next class we have here!"
Crapbaskets, I peered around the room, at the computers I had disassembled, the desks I had rearranged, and the cables I had confiscated. My co-teacher mentioned another teacher was interested in using the computers, but when I asked him about it directly he said that I wasn't sharing the room.
I was wrong, the social studies teacher wanted to use 15 computers. For this, I felt both bad and annoyed. Annoyed on the simple fact that I had to putter about putting things away while waiting for the teacher to arrive (I'm more than hesitant to leave unruly students with so much equipment unsupervised, though now that I think about it, given the state of the English Room, I doubt anyone really cares if the kids are carving on the desks and popping keys off the keyboard). Though in all sincerity I felt bad for interfering with the social studies teacher's lesson by having to have her set up the computer lab again. I specifically asked if I needed to leave the computers plugged in for other teachers and was told I didn't have to. Once again, there is a fundamental lack of communication between my coworkers and I, specifically due to a lack of trying. I hate it when these awkward half konglish conversations happen because it puts everyone on the spot and no one seems to get what they want or need in a timely manner. I hate it because it feels unprofessional and ineffective, I can only imagine how my Korean counterparts feel about these common miscommuniques.
I left that haphazard class unsure if the social studies teacher had what she needed, and certain she could not communicate her needs if there was something. I skipped whatever lunch they had prepared and waited for the slow bus back to Hongcheon, my nose in a book. I had hoped that reading might quell the deep seated dissatisfaction I felt with the days farce of an educational experience.
I can understand how kids could be apathetic towards a language class, especially when forced to attend during regular classes, but this camp nonsense is an entirely new level! In theory, these camps are voluntary, but clearly none of these kids have the slightest interest in the language (nevermind their ability level). Yet, here they are, stranded in my care when we clearly cannot communicate anything but the most basic information back and forth. It's disturbing to imagine what my employers think this situation will accomplish other than waste everyone's time! I can understand that some kids need to be babysat during winter break, but if that's all they aim to do, then why the bother about making it a "camp?" No wonder kids are so resistive to learning a language they can't even have the option of electing to study, but are forced into it again and again!
It's times like these I feel that the education system here has no idea what it wants and doubly unsure of any way to get there.
Four more days of camp, let's hope my kids can follow me when I explain how to play Euchre with them. Doesn't seem like they're up for much of anything else....
P.S. I realize negativity is unbecoming and that there are plenty of blogs and forums about the annoyances of teaching in a Korean education system. I can't say I've completely given up (Hope still rides... if blindly) but you have to call a spade a spade. Even when it sucks.
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