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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