Conceptless

One of the reasons I haven’t been blogging much recently is that blogger is blocked at my school, so it’s impossible to post during the hours I’m normally sitting in front of a computer. A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog (never posted) about how we had once again come to the magical time in Korea when the windows are open. Windows here are opened in the fall - in the cold -for the fresh air. It’s an odd feeling to walk into a room on a chilly fall day to find the windows open and your coworkers wearing their coats and using their space heaters. It’s odder when they complain about how cold it is after opening the windows. If ever there was an argument against Darwin’s natural selection, I think this might be it. Currently it’s -5 Celsius, and both Paul and I are sitting with windows open; my school has fortunately turned on the heat, his has not.

Yesterday, in class, some students asked about the word “conceptless,” which they had heard on Korean television. They said that they had looked it up, but couldn’t find it in their dictionary. My coteacher wrote it on the board and asked me about it. I said I didn’t think it was a real word, but if it was, it could only be used to describe things, such as books or movies, rather than people; I volunteered the word clueless instead.

When we returned to our office, I looked up the word online. It wasn’t on Merriam-Webster’s website, or dictionary.com; when I googled the word, nothing came up. My coworker, using a Korean search engine, managed to find some philosophy papers that used the word conceptless. I attempted to explain that once you were a philosopher, you had to make words up to describe things, but that since it wasn’t in the dictionary, it still wasn’t a word. She argued that Koreans could make up the word, then, since it was a direct translation of a word they use. “A concept,” she argued, “is a general idea, like ‘we need food to live.’”

“A concept is really just an idea.”

“No, it says here it’s a general idea, so that’s something everyone knows like how to behave.’”

“General idea really just means an idea, not something everyone shares.”

“No, the Korean word is _______, and we translate that as concept, so conceptless is a person who doesn’t behave properly.”

Eventually, I just dropped it. I'm in Korea, she's older than I am, there's no telling her she's wrong. I bit my tongue, and went on to the next thing.

365 Days

It’s been a while since we’ve written – for a variety of reasons. When last we wrote, our appliances had been removed and replaced, and I had flown to America to get my E2 visa documents. As most of you already know, I was in America for a month, visiting my family and shopping for supplies. I returned to our town on the 9th of October and started work the next morning. It seems as though I’ve been back for months and months, but I’ve really just barely passed the three-week mark.

Just before I left in September, I signed a contract with a new school; I’m now at an elementary school, a thirty-minute bus ride away from our house. It was a lucky find, after we were worried that I wouldn’t have a job this fall. My school and coworkers are kind, interested in me as a person, and interested in working together to teach students; in short, it’s everything that my old school was not.

I can’t say that I’m excited for another winter in Korea or eager for the next however-many-months of teaching at this school. I can say that though last year was miserable at times, I was proud at the end of it – proud that I had worked a full year at a place I had hated without quitting, proud of the money we had saved, proud of all the places we had been. I was the property of that school for 365 days, and I didn’t fold.

One Year Down

Well it's been an eventful couple of weeks for us. As most of you probably know by now, Meg has been hired at a local Elementary school. The process was a lot more difficult than it should have been, but we're glad to have that behind us now. After over a month of going through recruiters with little to no luck, one of my co-workers finally called a public school that he knew of and they were extremely interested in hiring Meg. The next day we visited the school and had a meeting with the Principal, the VP and one of the English teachers. After a nice thirty minute conversation, they were quite eager to offer Meg the job (and we were equally eager to accept it). It made for a very happy weekend.

Unfortunately, that happiness didn't last too long. On the following Monday I was denied my renewal visa. My school didn't have me prepare the proper documents (they told me that I didn't need a criminal check since I had done one the previous year and hadn't been back to Canada...they were wrong). So now I have a month to get the criminal check done and sent to me over here. I should be fine, but I'll be much happier when I have my actual visa renewed.

Later that night at a farewell dinner, Meg's school informed her that they would be taking back all the furniture they had provided for us in our apartment. We had no idea what they had provided, but it turned out to be quite a lot. They apparently bought us the fridge, TV, washing machine, toaster oven, stove, ricer cooker, microwave, fan and iron. They were nice enough to give us 2 days notice.

We celebrated our one year mark in Korea with a box of delivery chicken while drinking warm Coke and watching TV on my laptop in our bare apartment. It wasn't quite the event we had hoped for. It did feel nice to have made it however. There were days where I think both of us weren't so sure we would.

After some mad scrambling my school managed to replace the items taken by Meg's former school on Friday (so we only went without them for the one day). Sadly, we now have a tiny fridge. I'm still trying to decide what to do about that. We might try and buy another ourselves, or just live with it for the next 6 months. It's quite small though.

On Saturday morning Meg flew back to the USA. After about 20 hours she arrived in Vermont and will be there for the next few days. From there she'll head down to Philadelphia to visit her sister's family (and her new nephew) before getting to Nashville sometime around Sept. 24th. If things go according to plan she'll fly back to Korea between Oct. 1st and 5th. I'm sure she'll really enjoy her time back home. I know she's missed seeing grass, fields and trees. She'll probably also enjoy breathing properly again as the air quality in Korea (at least the area we live in near Seoul) is quite poor.

As for myself, I've managed to kill most of my Korean Thanksgiving holiday watching TV and staying inside. The traffic is a nightmare and it takes about twice as long to get anywhere (and lots of things are closed anyways) so I've decided to just rest. It's been nice after the crazy few weeks we've had. Even after the few days of rest I've had, I still feel pretty beat. Hopefully, Meg's faring better back home.

Our Climb in Photos (Part 3)

This photo is slightly out of order, but I wanted it at the top because it's my favourite of the collection. I really like the sky behind Meg as she climbs the final stretch of the mountain. I think it's also pretty cool that you can see the clouds below her.


Here's a sign by where we spent the night. I probably should have included it with the sunrise photos I posted earlier.


Here we are at the top. We finally made it. I think Meg looks happy and I just look plain tired. It's not my favourite photo ever, but all I cared about at this point was getting a photo and then getting down the mountain and to our hotel.


Here's a torii at the top. I thought it looked pretty cool with the clouds. I really like toriis too.


Here's another photo I really like of Meg at the top. Again, I love the sky behind her and the clouds below her. I'm glad we have a few really great photos of her at the top. Nothing that can compare to my one with Raj in the pouring rain...but close.


We've got lots of news and crazy stories from the last week that we'll start posting again soon. Meg has a job and we're very excited about that. She's also on her way back to the US for a couple of weeks on Saturday. I'll be holding the fort here and trying to keep people from stealing our appliances (you probably think I'm joking...).

Our Climb in Photos (Part 2)

This is the room where we spent the night (almost typed "slept" but that seems like a bit of a stretch). At the time however, we were thrilled to find somewhere to sleep at all. It was midnight and we had spent the morning touring around Tokyo (seeing the infamous Harajuku girls) before spending 3 hours on trains to get to the base of the mountain and then another hour on a bus to the starting point of our hike. It had definitely been a long day.

I managed to grab about 2 hours of sleep in this crammed room and I think Meg got about 3 and half. I didn't really fit as my legs were too long and when fully extended would knock into the another person's feet. I couldn't really sleep diagonal either as I was crowded on both sides. I think about 14 or 16 people slept in this tiny room (you can see 12 sleeping bags in this photo). Those blue things with the ziploc bags around them were our pillows and they were not at all comfortable.


We got up at 4am so we could see the sunrise and finish our climb to the top. Below is the start of the sunrise. Meg wasn't overly impressed with it, I think she was just too tired and exhausted to appreciate it.


Here we are with the sunrise behind us. As you can see Meg definitely doesn't look awake yet.




There was a little shrine with Torii where we spent the night.


The sunrise at full force. I enjoyed it myself. Meg was too busy finding her dixie cup of coffee.


And here's Meg with her coffee. She still isn't really with it yet. I think the coffee cost $4 or $5 for the little dixie cup.

Tomorrow I'll add the final set of photos. Our final few hours of climbing and our time at the top.

Our Climb in Photos (Part 1)

This is a photo of the train we took took Mount Fuji. You can take Japan Rail trains fairly close, but then have to transfer to local trains. In this case the local train was painted with little Mt. Fuji's all over it. I thought it was amusing, fairly typical for Japan, but amusing nonetheless.


As we drove to where the trail starts we couldn't see much of anything and then right before we parked the clouds around Fuji blew away revealing the peak. It was quite a spectacular site and were were quite lucky.


This photo was taken about 5 minutes after the one above and as you can see the peak is already being covered again by clouds.


And 10 seconds later it was virtually gone.

After a brief dinner we started our ascent. By then it was pitch dark. I had trouble framing this photo properly because I couldn't see anything through the viewfinder of my camera and had to force it into taking anything at all.


Unlike my last time climbing Fuji, the weather was fairly desent and so by the time we reached the 7th station (about 2 hours into our hike I beleive) we were still smiling.


I'm pretty sure I was feeling the effects of the hike much more than Meg the first night. She raced up the mountain and had to wait on me a number of times. I think you can start to see my fatigue in the photo below.


A few hours later all the smiles had faded. By the lower 8th station we could start to feel the altitude change starting to affect us. I felt like I was stumbling my way up the mountain at times. As you can see below Meg finally started to show some fatigue. Unfortunately the further you go up the less space there is to rest and so here we were just happy to have a wall to lean against.

For about a half an hour or so I was worried we'd be spending the night like these people in the photo below. Fortunately we managed to find lodging around midnight. Which is good because it was pretty cold by this point and when we woke up around 4am it was absolutely freezing.


Well that's the end of the first set of photos. We'll post more soon of the sunrise and our time at the top.

Mt. Fuji

Now that the word is out, I suppose most of you want to know about our trip up (and down) Fuji. We didn’t tell anyone we were climbing, because we were a bit worried that I wouldn’t make it up, due to my asthma, so we managed to keep it a secret – even from those of you who asked directly.

We spent the morning with the Harajuku girls in Tokyo, then took a train to the Fuji area and arrived around five. It took us a while to change clothes, repack our backpacks, and get our luggage into a locker for the night. We took a bus from the train station at the bottom of Mt. Fuji to the fifth station, the place where most people begin their hike. It was a bright, sunny, and mostly clear day; when we reached the fifth station, we could actually see the top of the mountain. After taking some ‘before’ pictures, buying some more supplies (like some rain gear – just in case), and a nutritious dinner of overpriced hotdogs, we started our trek around seven thirty in the evening. It was dark, but there were plenty of other hikers, so we managed without our flashlights for the first while.

The beginning of the walk is fairly nice – like walking in a park at night. The moon and stars were bright, and it was refreshing to be able to see the night sky. We could see the trees below, and the stations lit up to the top. We made it to the sixth station (the one that Paul and Raj ‘missed’) in about 45 minutes, and were quite proud of our speedy pace. By then, we were above the tree line, and our path was becoming more ‘up’ than ‘across,’ slowly zig-zagging from one point to the next. At one point, I heard fireworks and looked around and saw them – far, far below us in some small town in the valley.

We stopped at the seventh station a little over an hour later. I got a stamp on my hiking stick, and we ate some of the trail mix we had packed. It was cold enough then for jackets and dark enough for flashlights. Somewhere around the beginning of our hike, Paul had mentioned that there was a part of the trail ‘where you have to use your hands.’ (Strangely, after reading on Mt. Fuji and talking about the trip for six weeks, this had never really come up.) This part came after the seventh station: the path became less like walking uphill and more like climbing – finding your footing and keeping your balance.

It was kind of fun – like climbing up a big rock – having to think about where to put your feet and hands. But with the atmospheric changes, combined with tiredness, it felt a bit more like shuffling blindly than boldly climbing. Armed with the better flashlight and walking stick, I left Paul in the dust. It was a nice feeling. After all, I’m the one who works out, so it’s only fair that I could win some race.

Somewhere in the enormous distance between the seventh and eighth station, we were suddenly joined by several large groups of tourists. We knew that this would likely happen on some part of our trip, but it was amazing how they seemed to come from nowhere. The path became crowded and annoying. Waiting for Paul at the lower eighth station, I saw a group of people sitting outside, all cozied up in their sleeping bags. We had planned to sleep for a few hours in one of the huts on the mountain, but hadn’t planned to sleep outside in the cold mountain air. Paul remarked that we may have to join those sleeping outside, should the tour groups take up all the sleeping space in the huts. I laughed – and then went to work passing them on our way up the mountain, determined to have a roof over my head for a few hours that night.

At 11:30, we asked for beds at a hut, but they were all full. We raced along to the next station and got a bed around midnight. Perhaps bed is a generous term – we got two sleeping bags in a room with twenty-five sleeping bags, and two rock-like pillows covered in Ziploc bags. It wasn’t the best sleep either of us had had. I felt like I was sleeping on the side of a mountain – far, far away from land and flat places. It’s a strange sensation to feel altitude while you’re lying down.

We awoke at four to see the sunrise. Sunrise from the top of Mt. Fuji is supposed to be magnificent – the reason why everyone climbs at night. We had seen some fantastic sunrise pictures on the internet, but, I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed at the sunrise. It was nice, but it wasn’t as breathtaking as I had imagined. Of course, that could be because of the very minimal amount of sleep I had had, the $4 Dixie Cup of coffee I was drinking, combined with the cold, cold wind, and the knowledge that we hadn’t yet reached the top.

We set out around five, and I felt sick almost immediately. The height of the mountain made the walk difficult for everyone around us. We would manage walking for about two minutes before a rest. Our pace slowed quite a bit from the night before. I never thought we’d get to the top. The sun was shining very brightly, and we could see quite a distance from where we were standing. The mountain itself was an earthy red color.

After three and a half hours of morning hiking, we finally made it to the top, which is made up of a little village of restaurants and souvenir shops. We went in to a restaurant, and I collapsed. Paul ordered and ate his lunch while I was sleeping. Eventually, I woke up, ate lunch, and wrote postcards. Revived, we wandered over to the post office, stopping to look into the crater on our way. Eventually, after mailing our postcards and taking many pictures, we were ready for our descent.

Ready perhaps isn’t the best word to describe our feelings. It might be better to say that we knew it was time to go down, we knew that if we didn’t leave, we wouldn’t make it to our hotel at a decent time. From the top of the mountain, the path zig-zags slowly down; you can see how dreadfully far it is. This was the worst part. The loose, rocky dirt was hard to walk on – it was far more difficult to find a grip with our legs and feet on this path than the one the night before – like sloshing through dirt, the same sort of inertia that comes when walking through a big slushy snowfall. After one zig, Paul had blisters, and I was ready to quit. “I can’t do this,” I told him, as though I hoped he would say, “why don’t we just wait for the elevator.” But there was no elevator, and we couldn’t stay forever on the mountain. The soles on my shoes were so worn and my legs so tired that I kept a snails pace. It was warm – the sun is so close up there, so bright – you feel… exposed. I felt miserable. Looking down and seeing the path, it felt like it would be forever before we got down. People passed us – people with hiking shoes, people without hiking shoes, people with children. An entire little-league baseball team passed us, and I still couldn’t pick up my pace, or believe any harder that I would ever get to the bottom of the mountain. Paul chose this point to ask if I was proud of what I had done and happy that we had done it. I informed him that I was certainly not proud or happy – I was miserable and regretting that I had let him talk me in to such nonsense. We didn’t talk much after that.

Eventually, the end was in sight (at least for Paul, that is, I don’t think I believed we would finish until we actually did). A bus was coming in forty-five minutes, and we decided to race the rest of the way back to the fifth station. We didn’t run – I can’t even really describe it as moving quickly – but we moved with purpose through the crowds of people at the beginning of their climb. I felt bad for them. Paul ran (that is, he moved quicker than I did) back to the station to buy tickets – the bus took off two minutes after I got to the station, five hours after we had started our descent. I have never been so filthy in my life. My hair, which I had kept under my hat the whole time we were on the mountain, was nothing but a mass of tangles, and when I finally took off my shoes in the train station restroom, out came my own little mountain of dirt.

About My Job - Before We Post About Japan

It’s been several weeks since we’ve posted to our blog. There are several reasons for that: we went to Japan for ten days; when we came home, we were confronted not only with work, but my still uncertain job situation. While we’ve been going through our vacation pictures, we’ve also been going through a panic over our housing and work situation for the fall. It’s a rather complex story, but the short form is: we’re keeping our apartment, Paul is staying at his school, and I am frantically searching for a job. We are 17 days shy of being here a full year – and both looking forward to celebrating the 365 mark. I’ll be heading home for a few weeks in September to renew my visa, and Paul will be staying in Korea to work.

It’s sort of a strange feeling. On the one hand, I am terribly disheartened by my job situation. We’ve known since June that I didn’t have a job for the fall; we’ve talked to numerous recruiters, and had a few offers. We perhaps should have taken a job that was a bit further away, but we decided we could find something closer to our apartment. I accepted an offer on a job, and the recruiter never emailed me back, so I lost that job, as well as a second-best offer that came in from another recruiter. And thus, after two months of searching, I am two weeks away from unemployment. I am frustrated with a system of recruiters and contractors that doesn’t seem to work, I am frustrated at the lies I’ve been given while searching, and I’m frustrated that no one seems to want me, even though I’m qualified.

But at the same time that all that turmoil is going on – I have only twelve teaching days left at my school – and that is a fabulous feeling. I have really, honestly not enjoyed teaching at this school. There have been times, of course: my after-school classes and summer courses have been fun – I’ve had the freedom to teach and play games, I’ve been able to form relationships with the students. But, most days here, I go to classes, and function as a sort of monkey – saying words for the kids to repeat, defining things as my coworker sees fit, and doing little else. I’m thrilled to be leaving and every class I teach, I know I’m that much closer to leaving this school and going home. Hooray.

I know that many of you are praying for us and thinking about us while we're trying to sort all of this out. Thank you so much. We'll let you know what happens.

"My Summer Vacation"

A few weeks ago, my school published its first English newsletter, with articles written by my evil coworker, some students, and the rest put together by the foreign teacher (that’s me). One student wrote an article describing his best friends, one wrote about global warming (we were in the middle of a pretty dreadful heat wave), and one of my best students wrote about her plans for summer vacation. Instead of talking about the beach, or sleeping in, or trips to see family, she talked about vacation homework. And really, for many of our students, summer vacation is more a time to study than to camp.

During my summer vacation, I’ll be teaching three weeks of summer camp. These two weeks, I have four classes every day – two with a group of seventh graders, two with eighth graders. When we return from Japan, I have another week of camp – four hours a day with the same group of seventh graders.

In winter camp, many of my students were students who had been in my after-school classes during the year. Some were A students, most got B’s, but we managed English-in-English classes together fairly well. Imagine my surprise, then, when I found that most of my students this vacation were C or lower level students. I have kids signed up for these classes who can’t read, write, hear, or speak English. (In the Korean school system, no child is left behind – they pass from grade to grade as long as they keep the seats warm.) It was a mind-boggling first few days, trying to imagine how to teach the students who couldn’t understand anything I said to them.

The seventh graders, though overwhelmed the first day, managed an attempt at understanding. We’ve had relatively good classes since then, with worksheets and games. My eighth graders, though, have been a bit more trouble. They seem to go in and out of class – some coming only for the first period, others coming only for the second period, so there’s no consistency between the classes. Usually, I do the learning and worksheet for the first period, then the game second period, but the game doesn’t work so well when the students haven’t done the learning. Games also don’t work so well when only three or four students come; or, not the large-group games I had planned for my fifteen-student classes. Yesterday, I had four students come to my eighth grade class. One can’t read or speak, one was a C-level student who was rather sick, and two were A level students who refused to talk. (There is no sense of ‘speak when you’re spoken to’ in the Korean education system. When there are 40 kids in the class, someone else will always answer the question.) I attempted 20 questions with this group, since its an easy game that most English students here can play. Getting them to ask questions was like pulling teeth. It was a dreadful class.

I’ve been wondering what the purpose of summer camp is – or, perhaps more poignantly: why would any parent sign their child up for an English-in-English class when the child can’t read or speak? Why would my school allow parents to do that? It’s yet another one of those quirky things about the Korean education system that I will never quite understand. If we put our kids in a room with a foreigner for two hours a day, they’ll come out speaking fluent English. Learning through osmosis. So, I have them memorizing the Gettysburg Address. That should have them writing something more interesting for their essays in the fall.

A Brief Update

There hasn't been much to write about lately. It's been pretty hot recently so we've taken to staying indoors. The humidity is disgusting and even when it's cloudy I find my clothes completely soaked with sweat by the time I walk home from school (about 25 minutes). Similar to Nashville, the nights aren't much better than the days.

Our school term has ended (well mine ends on Tuesday) and so we both will be teaching a Summer camp for the next couple of weeks. Our reward will be another two weeks in Japan. Unfortunately, the heat in Japan won't be much better (at least down in the Kyoto area where we'll be spending a good deal of time).

I've been organizing my photos again, and I wasn't sure if we ever posted any from Vietnam (I think I only put up our Angkor photos from that trip). While Angkor Wat was definitely the highlight of the trip (and probably our year here - for me at least), Meg and I preferred Vietnam to Cambodia and Thailand. We'd both love to go back and spend more time there.

A flower in front of a temple gate.

Ho Chi Minh's Palace in Ha Noi.

Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum

A man sits in his boat at Hoi An harbour.

Hoi An harbour.

Torn Vietnamese flags in the harbour at Hoi An.

There were propaganda poster all over Vietnam that Meg and I thought were pretty cool.

An HIV poster in Hue.

Culture Tips

These are 33 tips on adjusting to Korean culture, from our board of education. The Gyeonggi Board of Education employs over a thousand native English teachers. You would have thought they could have gotten one of them to read the list over before posting it.

(Click on the tips to see them a bit larger and more clearly)


My personal favourites are:

2. People are usually kind, but sometimes not to Africans and South-east Asians.
10. Schedules and plans are often subject to change. (This is perhaps the understatement of the year)
11. You may be insisted to drink alcohol beyond your capacity.
31. When you drink alcohol with seniors or elder persons, you'd better turn your head around.
32. There are rarely polite "excuse me's" when people bump into you on the street. (Very true. We get bumped into a lot and maybe once or twice someone has acknowledged it)
33. Koreans sometimes say yes when they are confused in speaking English. (I suspect the root of some of our problems).

Into the Belly of the Beast

Well we finally found our way over to the protests on Sunday afternoon/evening. There wasn't a huge gathering (though on Saturday night police estimated 50,000 people - organizers estimated 500,000). Of course the numbers might have been hampered by the buses and police blocking entrance (or exit) from the park. We actually had to squeeze between riot police to get out (while angry Koreans trying to get in yelled at them). It was an interesting experience.

Riot gear being prepared for the night.

Riot police wait for nightfall.

Some graffiti on the wall.

The protests are actually candlelight vigils. Someone put one of theirs in the ground.

Parents even bring their kids to the events. Not sure I'd bring mine....

The protesters start to gather as night begins to fall.

A man argues with the police. Another man was running around without a shirt yelling at the police. This is when we decided to make our exit. Tensions were definitely running high when we left, although I read today that only minor scuffles broke out.

Confucianism & The Ajumma

In Korea, Confucianism is still a fundamental part of Korean society. One of the bases of Confucianism has to do with the relationship between young and old. While we are taught to respect our elders in the West, this idea is taken to a whole new level in the East. Any age difference can be a stumbling block between people.

I teach a Special English class that has kids from grade 3,4,5 and 6 in it. My students will always sit in groups with other kids their age (even if they are a different gender) rather than sit with someone of a different age. Sometimes they'll converse with the students from the grade directly above or below them, but even that can be rare. Whenever I try and make teams for us to play a game the kids will refuse to be grouped with kids of a differing age, even if it means losing. Last semester I tried to operate on a 2 team basis and every week I fought with my kids over the teams and every week they'd refuse to play until the two teams were Grade 3 & 4 vs Grade 5 & 6. I'd tell the younger kids every week that they'd lose. This didn't phase them at all. They'd rather lose by a wide margin then break their social norms (and it's hard to blame them if that's the way they've been raised). By the way, this system doesn't only apply to children. We've been told that adults of differing ages can't be friends either. Someone we know here was told they couldn't be friends with someone because they were 30 and she was only 27.

A more annoying byproduct of the Confucius system is the Ajumma. Ajumma means, literally, "woman old enough to be married." Although the term usually isn't applied to women until they are in their mid to late 30's or early 40's. Ajumma's basically exist above the culture. They can pretty much do whatever they like and nobody will say anything to them. It can be maddening at times.

They walk three across on a street and don't move to let you pass. They push you out of the way to get to a seat on the subway. They get in the elevator and push "door close" so that they don't have to ride the elevator with you. And most commonly, they push past you in line at the grocery store (or any store for that matter) and check-out no matter how many people are standing in line.

The Foreigners here generally find Ajummas to be particularly annoying, yet since it's deeply rooted in the Korean culture, nobody else blinks an eye at their actions. It's quite interesting (and usually frustrating) to watch and experience firsthand.

The reason I'm writing this blog on Ajummas is because Meg sent me a youtube video earlier today that made me laugh and I thought most of you would enjoy it too. It's from a Korean wedding ceremony (it starts a little slow but is definitely worth the pay off).

The Violence Continues

It sounds like the protests are actually being reported internationally now. Which, in a way, is nice to hear. I wasn’t sure anyone back home would ever really believe our stories about the violent outbreaks in the streets of Seoul.

The protests are actually occurring in the nicer part of Seoul. An area where we spent a fair bit of time in during our first few months over here (The Anglican church we sometimes attend is actually just a block or two down the road). I’ve thought about going a few times to take some photos. I’m not sure if this is a great idea…

I’m curious as to how the protests are affecting tourism. I read that Seoul had launched a campaign to try and attract visitors to the Beijing Olympics either on their way to China or on their way back from China. With the protests occurring in front of the country’s most popular Palace and down the street from two others, they can’t be helping. I’m glad my parents came when they did. If they had come in May or June we might have had to skip visiting the historic (and in my opinion the most interesting) part of Seoul.

It seems that misinformation what has caused most of the problems. I’ve read things in the newspapers that seemed to have no basis in fact and yet it was presented as if it was definitive. I’ve read things ranging from “Koreans are much more susceptible to Mad Cow Disease than Americans” to “Americans don’t eat American beef. They export their beef to other countries and import all the beef they eat from Venezuela.”

I read last week that the President (who was elected last December and took office in February) has an approval rating of under 10%. Korean Presidents are limited to 1 five year term. I can’t imagine how little he’ll ever get anything done over his next 4 ¾ years.

With the Beef deal renegotiated last week, it’s hard to argue that the riots aren’t simply pure Anti-Americanism. Korea definitely hasn’t been our favourite place, but it kind of sinks to a new low when there are open protests against your country on a daily basis for over two months. Especially when they escalate to the levels they have these past few weeks. Every Monday I come into work and read in the newspaper about the hundred or so people injured in the protests. There’s usually a video or two that I can watch as well. It’s hard to believe that these actions are taking place in a city and area we’ve frequently visited.

Interesting Statistics
I’ve read some interesting stats in the newspaper the last few weeks. It’s helped me understand the country and how and why the people here haven’t always treated us the best. I think some of you might find the following statistics to be interesting:

Middle School Students
“In the latest poll, 57.1 percent of the secondary school students cited the U.S. or Japan as countries that threaten our national security most. Only 24.5 percent named North Korea. Despite the fact that 54,000-odd Americans were killed in the Korean War, young people are as hostile to the U.S. as they are to North Korea.”

High School Students
“About 14 percent picked Japan as the nation responsible for the Korean war; 13.4 percent, the United States, and 11 percent Russia.”

“28 percent said the United States was the key ``threat'' for national security, 4 percentage points higher than North Korea.”

Military Academy Students
“It is no coincidence that when Korea Military Academy freshmen were asked in 2004 which country their nation’s main enemy is, 34 percent named America and 33 percent North Korea.”

Eat the Dog - A Few English Mishaps

Much to what I can only imagine will be my grandmother’s horror, this week my textbooks taught both, “Sora is taller than me,” and “Do you get it? Yes, I got it.” It also gave a picture of a killer whale with the name ‘dolphin’ underneath. On top of that, my co-teacher attempted to teach the students such gems as, “Let’s go reading, Let’s go studying,” and “I’ll be second that.” Needless to say, I’ve been feeling a bit frustrated.

As a native speaker, my job is supposed to be to point out these problems, but sometimes that simply doesn’t work. I attempted to teach what “I’ll second that” means; but since my coworker had never heard of our meeting process before, she decided that it meant “I’ll be second to do that,” or “I’ll be second that.” Everyone was uncomfortable that I thought it had something to do with a process, that I thought ‘second’ was being used as a verb. Dumb foreigner. And to correct a book’s mistake about a dolphin or comparative statements is uncomfortable, too. I could tell them it was a killer whale, but I’m afraid I didn’t try going against “I got it,” or “Sora is taller than me.”

And there are other things I really shouldn’t try teaching. Like science or certain Western ‘beliefs’. Last week in our textbooks, there was a conversation between Tony and Sudong. Sudong had been in California, and he had grown a lot in the year that he had been away from Korea. Tony comments on this, and Sudong replies, “I did a lot of exercise.” Since the question for this section was in Korean, and my Korean teacher was out of the room (the crazy one), I did my best to talk to the students about the discrepancy between Tony’s observation and Sudong’s reply.

“Does exercise make you taller?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Come on, now, we all know exercise doesn’t make you taller.”
“Basketball.”
“Basketball doesn’t make you taller.”
“Swimming.”
“No, swimming won’t make you taller, either.”
“Korean people, Canada people – different.”
“No, all humans are the same.”

About this time, my co-teacher came back to the room. One of the students explained the problem to her in Korean. She replied, in Korean, “American’s don’t believe exercise will make you taller,” then, had them translate to me, “Koreans believe that exercise will make you taller.” Everyone in the room was amazed at how dumb the foreign teacher was.

I think, though, that Paul had one of the best misunderstandings with his co-teacher recently, and not in a classroom. We were taking care of our friends’ dog; at lunchtime one day, Paul told his co-teacher that he had to go home at lunchtime to feed the dog, to which his co-teacher replied, “You’re going home to eat the dog?”

A New Gow and a New Problem

We got a message from my oldest nephew, Ben, Sunday night on the Wii. He said they were going to the hospital that day. I called my mom and she told me that Sarah was having contractions and they were all getting ready to go to the hospital. I woke up early Monday morning to call again, and by that time (about five Sunday night), Sarah had already had the baby and a fairly easy time, from what they could tell (my mom had seen the baby, but hadn’t seen Sarah yet). He’s 7lbs 5oz and Evan Patrick Farrell Gow (I’m not sure if his last name is hyphenated or not). Brad was elated that the baby came on Father’s Day.

In other news, my coteacher came to me on Friday. She asked when I was taking my vacation this summer, so that they could schedule the dates of my summer camp. That’s when I found out the dates for summer vacation. I mentioned that if I re-signed my contract with the school, I would get two weeks to go home during summer vacation. She said she would look at my contract and talk to the principals.

On Monday, she came to me with a copy of my contract with the part underlined that we had talked about. She brought it to my attention that only if I renew would I be able to have a two week holiday home. I said I was aware, that that was what I was talking about. She seemed a bit confused, but said she would talk to the principal. She returned an hour later to tell me that the principal did not want to renew my contract.

I can’t tell you how strange this is. Most schools will keep any foreign teacher they can, since we’re in high demand over here. Since our conversation yesterday, she has asked a few times if Paul was staying, if I understood what she was saying, and if I was planning on staying in Korea. I think one of three things happened:

1. My co-teacher and I have a rocky relationship. She can’t co-teach with me in class because her English is not good enough. At least once every class I have to correct something she says. Also, I have not hidden my anger over ‘mistakes’ such as the school holiday last week; so, she has recommended to the principals that they find a new foreign teacher.

2. This spring, my school asked me to teach more extra classes than allowed for in my contract. I refused because it was too much, especially when they have refused to provide me with materials (though they have a budget for it). Saying ‘no’ to a superior is unheard of in Korea.

3. My coteacher did not understand me when I said I’d like to re-sign the contract. Re-sign and resign are very, very similar words; and though she should have understood from the other things I said (‘I’d like to stay” and “I get two weeks at home”), she may not have. Again, as part of Korean culture, she cannot admit a mistake like that to me or to the principals.

This leaves Paul and me with three options:

1. He will stay at his school; I will find another school nearby. This is a fairly easy process since there’s a shortage of teachers, and his school will help me find a job (we also have friends who will help).

2. We find jobs in Japan and stay there for six months.

3. We come home for good.

While we figure out what exactly is going on, this is what I can tell you: Since my school will not renew my contract, I will not be permitted to return home this summer.

I have to say, I'm not sad to have only a few weeks remaining with my co-teacher that I do not like. She's been more than a thorn in my flesh these last nine months, and the prospect of leaving her makes me rather happy. However, it does leave Paul and me with some rather difficult decisions. We'll keep you posted as we know more.

Cloud Nine?

Nine months. That’s how long we’ve been here for now. While it seems like ages in some regards at the same time it feels like the time has flown by.

Last week I taught with a substitute teacher for the week while my normal coteacher was away. It wasn’t the best of weeks. The kids had very little interest in anything she had to say. Of course this didn’t stop her from talking. In a lot of ways they teach more lecture style in schools here. So the substitute teacher just stood at the front talking and most of the kids turned away and began conversations with themselves. This would happen in each and every class. Thankfully, when it was my turn to teach they’d tune into me. Most likely because I teach them for five minutes and then we spend the rest of class practicing what I taught through various games and if they don’t pay attention to my spiel they know they’re done for when game time starts.

The substitute’s English pronunciation was horrid. It was driving me up the wall all week. She kept adding the Korean ending to everything (They add a –eu or –ee sound to way too many words to count). She would say Breakfast-eu, Lunch-ee (to be fair it was more like Runchee), English-ee, etc… The Japanese would do the same thing, but at least in that situation I could correct them since they were my students and they were small classes. Here I’ve tried and I continue to try, but it’s too hard when your co-teacher can’t get the pronunciation right and the class size is 40+. Her grammar was also awful. At one point she tried asking them if they knew how to spell the word Breakfast (at least I think that’s what she was trying to as) and it came out “Do you remember the spell?”. I’m pretty sure none of my kids or witches or warlocks, although at times I’m not so sure…

This week we were teaching the future tense in class. The main question was “What will you do this summer?” The kids would respond with one of seven possible answers to this question (I will…ride my bike, watch TV, play computer games, read books, play baseball, play soccer, visit my uncle). As a side note, I found it interest that in all my classes the children all knew what “uncle” meant but only one or two kids a class knew the word “aunt”. After the kids watch the movie and I read the dialogue with them my coworker translates it into Korean and explains the meanings and how we use it. In this particular case he talked for a bit and then said “What will you do…tomorrow” the kids answered, then he asked “What will you do on Saturday”, the kids answered and the he asked “What will you do yesterday?” and the kids answered what they did yesterday using the future tense. I just sat at the back of the room contemplating banging my head against the wall.

In other news, I got an email this morning telling me that Meg’s sister Sarah’s water had broken, but that it was a false alarm and the baby likely wouldn’t come for a few more days. Meg had to explain to me that in the real world (and not tv and movie land) that the water breaking doesn’t always mean the baby is mere seconds away from arrival. We’re both a little sad that we can’t be there to meet the newest entry into the Farrell/Gow family, but hopefully it won’t be too long until we find our way to Philadelphia.

The dog we’ve been caring for this week goes back home tomorrow night. I’ll be sad to see him go on one level and extremely happy on another. He’s been a bit of a handful. 5 month-old puppies (bigger than the size of a rat) were not meant to be raised in Korea. Our apartment is fairly large by most standards over here and yet no where near large enough for him. Also, the lack of a backyard is really a pain. Oh and the fact that there’s garbage everywhere. There’s a little field beside out apartment I take him to when he needs to pee and every day I have to pull trash out of his mouth at least a few times per walk. Although it’s an empty grass and rock field people just throw their garbage there. It’s very strange. I’ve actually watched people do it while I’ve been with the dog. They walk out of their apartments and dump a bag or box of trash onto the field. There is a pile of broken plates that I need to keep Brody away from every time we go into the field.

There’s a little company run by an American (I believe) who makes t-shirts for foreigners living and working in Korea. I just got my “I’d rather be in Japan” shirt in the mail last week. Now all I have to do is build up enough courage to wear it out in public here. It is a pretty cool shirt though. Meg wants one too now. Of course some days I suspect she'd probably be happy enough to wear an "I'd rather be in Iraq" shirt.

There have been protests here in Korea over the decision to import US beef for the last 40 days or so. Every night thousands of people attend candle-light vigils near the Blue House (their White house). It's gotten pretty violent on a number of occasions and it has been front page news almost every day. Most people think the protests are more anti-American driven than anti-beef and I suspect they're right. Of course I've been reading up on Korean protests and it seems like they'll protest anything. Apparently there's an average of 11,000 publiuc protests a year in Korea and the average riot police officer will have to deal with 85 a year. Definitely not a job I'd want to do.

There's an interesting article on Korean protests. It's worth a read if you have the time. Though it is mildly disturbing:

The Exciting World of Korean Protests

There's also an article on the crazy ice cream flavours of Japan. For example, Octopus flavoured, Horse flesh, shark fin, tomato, garlic, etc... I can verify that these are true flavours and not made up as I saw some of them with my own eyes and read about them in the Japanese paper when I lived there:

Japanese Ice Cream Flavours

We're Still Here

It's been a few weeks since we've posted anything, but I assure you we're still in Korea. I can tell by the smell coming in my window. It's gotten warm here and some of the smells that went away in the winter seem to have come back. Of course we also have a dog staying with us for the week so maybe it's him.

For those of you scratching your heads and wondering how we could possibly have a dog, I'll give you the Colesnotes version: our friends decided that Korea would be a good place to raise a puppy and so they bought a 3 month old Pointer a couple of months ago. They're back in Buffalo for ten days to attend a wedding and we volunteered to take care of Brody for duration of their trip. He's very cute and very full of energy.

We got an air conditioner last weekend. The process is a little bit more complex than it is back home. It cost us $500 and took a workman two and a half hours to install. He drilled through two concrete walls and now we have a massive A/C unit in our bedroom that can cool the whole apartment if we crank it up. We haven't actually used it yet and are hoping to survive with just our fan until July, but we might not make it. The summers here are supposed to be miserably hot. Although I read it was 33 degrees in Toronto today, but it felt like 41 with the humidity, so maybe we're on the right side of the ocean this weekend.

Meg showed up for work on Thursday to find only two cars in the school parking lot. She was greeted with the news that there were no classes today when she went to inquire as to where everyone was. She then went to her office wondering why nobody had told her she didn't have class. An couple of hours later her coworker called to tell Meg she wasn't supposed to come in today. Apparently the Vice Principal (one of only 4 people in the school) had seen Meg and was curious as to why she was in and so she called Meg's co-teacher. Meg's co-teacher, Yu Mi, told Meg that it was on the schedule that it was the school's birthday and there was no school today. So Meg pulled out the schedule they'd given her and comment to Yu Mi that the schedule they had given her said no such thing. So then Yu Mi told Meg that she had called us three time to tell us. Since we have call display on our phone, and our phone had not rung the previous night or in the morning, Meg found that a little hard to believe as well. In the end Meg left school around 11:30 and went home. Having gotten up at 6am to walk the dog and spent almost half a day at work because nobody had bothered to tell her Thursday was a holiday for her school. Needless to say, it wasn't the best day "off".

I had a substitute teacher this week because my co-teacher was in New Zealand on a school trip. I'm very happy the week is over, as the kids could care less about anything that came out of the substitute teacher's mouth. Which is probably a good thing since she kept saying things like "Lunchee", "Breakfast-eu", and 'Englishee". She also asked the kids if they "remembered the spell?". I think she was asking if they knew how to spell something, not if they were little witches and wizards in training. I felt like my mere presence in the room somewhat validated her horrendous English and thought more than a few times about just leaving. It wasn't the best week.

About a month ago Meg and I went to Buddha's Birthday celebrations in Seoul. We made some lotus lanterns and watched a parade. It was one of our better days here. I just realized I never posted any photos, so here are a few. Meg won a prize for her lantern (you can see her holding it below):

Making our lanterns

Holding our completed lanterns

Some lanterns hanging at a nearby temple in Seoul

A Buddha float in the parade

Another float

English Conversation Lessons

A few weeks ago, Paul posted some of the videos he has to teach from. Teaching English conversation from texts not written by native speakers can be quite trying. I thought I might post some of the more stellar conversations I have to teach. My books are a little older than Paul’s, and there seems to be an attempt to make the students more aware of Western literature, including, but not limited to: The Little Matchgirl, The Little Mermaid, the Fox and the Stork, Who Will Bell the Cat, Sherlock Holmes, and the Dog of Flanders (extra points if you know that story). The following is a dialogue between the Princess and the Frog.

Princess: Oh, I dropped the golden ball! What shall I do?

Frog: Cheer up! Don’t cry. I will bring the ball to you.

Princess: Really? How kind you are!

Frog: Then, will you marry me?

Princess: Why not? That’s fine with me.

Apparently, the Princess has nothing better to do than marry the frog, and no standards for a husband higher than 'someone who will find my golden ball'. Why not?

The next conversation is beside a picture of two kids standing in a forest (the children are real, the forest is a drawing). There’s a Korean kid and an American (she’s wearing a USA sweater); they’re looking at a sign written in Korean.

Korean: Watch your step!

American: All right. Look, the flowers are very pretty.

Korean: Oh, don’t pick the flowers.

American: I’m hungry. Let’s make a fire and cook something.

Korean: Don’t make a fire. See the sign here.

Stupid Americans – always wanting to start forest fires. Don’t they learn anything from Smoky the Bear?

This goes well with the reading from the following chapter. In it, an ethnically Korean girl moves back to Korea after living in New York. There’s a picture of her schedule and her American classmates beside a picture of a Korean’s schedule and classmates. The Americans are, of course, dressed very sloppy (it’s a picture from the late 80s, so very strangely sloppy), and standing in a hallway. The Korean students are all sitting at their desks and bent over books. Yumi’s schedule is half taken up with “homeroom” and “lockers” times; most of her classes are covered with the picture. Sudong’s schedule, however, shows all seven classes.

If I took a picture of Korean kids in the classroom, I’d show them standing on their chairs, painting their desks, and punching each other. All of which happens during class time; none of which makes a Korean teacher blink.

Meg's School

A few weeks ago, my students went on class trips, and I was left behind to hang out in my office. I thought it would be a good time to take some pictures of my school.

This is a fairly standard classroom. Most classes have between thirty-five and forty students. They sit in double rows; most teachers have boys and girls sit side by side in order to decrease talking. I’m not convinced it works to keep them quiet, but it is more convenient for copying homework, or ‘cunning’, as they call it here. It also keeps them closer together, which is nice. I have one class that has the desks a bit more spaced, and the students seem so far away and so close at the same time. It feels strangely crowded and uncomfortable.

In the back are the student’s lockers and a closet with cleaning supplies. The stay in the same classroom all day and the teachers rotate, so each classroom really belongs to the students. Each class has a homeroom teacher who is responsible for a lot of paperwork, decorating the classroom, and making sure that the students clean their room every day (Most schools don’t have a cleaning staff; ours is responsible for the bathrooms and hallways, which, from what I hear, is really nice – apparently leaving 7^th graders in charge of bathroom cleanliness doesn’t work so well.)

Other than what their homeroom teachers dictate, the students have free range over the classroom. I was amazed at first when I saw some of them doodling on their desks – sometimes even with whiteout or permanent marker – and sometimes right in front of teachers – but each desk belongs to the student as well. (Somehow they manage to take any writing off their desks either with an eraser – one that can remove pen, maker and whiteout – or, if the super-eraser fails, they can simply use the sharpy knife they all have in their pencil cases.) I’ve even seen students standing on desks and chairs. Before the beginning of term, all of the returning students came back to the school for an hour one day (in their uniforms) and moved their desk to their new classroom. My coworker explained that they’ll keep their desk for the three years that they’re at this school. Of course, it makes me wonder if they throw out the desks when the students graduate or if they give the new students some really beat-up desks. From what I know about this school, I’m sure they don’t know what they’ll do.

One of my first few days here, my coworker brought me to a classroom full of desks and chairs with a sign outside that said “Language Lab.” She told me that we would use the classroom when the new school year began in March; the school wanted to trade the desks currently in the classroom for new ones. Next door to the Language Lab was a room labeled “Native Speaker.” She explained that I would have my own office in the new year as well.

And so I waited. Three day before classes began, they moved me from the main teachers office downstairs to the room next to the Language Lab. The Native Speaker sign, however, was removed. My coworker told me she would be visiting me often. I think this was to prevent me (or the other teachers in the school) from thinking I was too important.

Two days before classes began, they moved the old desks out of the Language Lab to get ready for the new desks and the new year. This is what it looks like now. Sometimes I use it to practice cartwheels.

Though, I can pretty much do cartwheels in my own office. This is my desk and computer and the blanket I wrap around me when it’s too cold. There’s also a teakettle and piles of worksheets from my extra classes as well as two of the desks that used to be in the other room. I’m not sure what they’re doing there, but I don’t really need the space, as you can see. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that my office is larger than anyone else’s reading this blog and definitely larger than any office I’ll have in the future (about 25x13ft). Too bad there’s no leather couch and rock fountain.

Gyeongju in Photos

As Meg mentioned earlier, we spent our long weekend last week in Gyeongju. Gyeongju is the ancient capital of Korea and outside of Seoul probably the most interesting place to visit in Korea. We had a really nice weekend (even though everywhere we went was jam packed). I've posted some photos below:

This is at Bulguksa Temple. Bulguksa is the most popular temple in Korea and is home to 7 national treasures. It is also a UNESCO world heritage site. It was probably as crowded as it gets the day we were there. Being the main temple in Korea, many Koreans visited the temple for Buddha's birthday.

The next three photos are of the lanterns that have been at all the Buddhist temples for the past few weeks. I thought they were really neat. They added a lot of colour to the temples.





The final photo is of Seogaktap. It is one of the national treasures of Korea. It's sometimes known as the "shadowless pagoda." It is across from Dabotap, which is another pagoda that is slightly more popular. I might put a photo of it up later, but it was much more crowded and I don't particularly like any of the photos I took of it. Both pagodas were built around 751. Seogaktap is on the back of one of the coins but I forget which one (maybe the 100 won coin).