A little cough

So a quick word about getting sick in Korea. First of all, I don’t think the word sick translates or translates well anyway.  There are no sick days here in Korea. There are also no substitute teachers. So, that pretty much means you will teach regardless of how many tissues fill your trash can or if you have no voice to even share with the students. I found this out day 4 of teaching.

I woke up sick. I mean real sick. I could barely talk, barely walk. I arrived at school and the teachers immediately took notice of my gaunt appearance. I figured they would send me home with some tea and tell me to get some rest. But I was wrong. The only medicine I received was a vitamin C sugar pack and the kind words of “Oh, Megteacher must get better.” 

I was warned that I would get sick. New environment, new homeland germs, and lots of students who don’t cover their mouths and wipe their nose drippings anywhere that seems fitting...but I didn't know it would be this bad. I might mention the lack of ventilation at the school. There are no windows, so stale air circulates around the school 24 hours a day.

By the next day, the teachers realized I was in bad shape…Perhaps because I could not speak and so I was taken to the doctor’s. Now just a sidenote... I do not have my health card yet, but fear not, I was just given someone else’s name and ID # and sent on my way. I already like the flexibility of the Korean healthcare system. I told the receptionist my name was Deanna. She asked my last name (in perfect English might I add) and I pretended I didn’t understand her because I in fact didn’t know the girl’s last name. I figured this would be a sure sign that I was an impostor! My mother always encourages me to play stupid when obstacles such as these arise. Somehow my blank stare or more than usual pale skin hinted that I was helpless. She accepted me as Deanna and I was let in to see the Doctor. After he diagnosed me with bronchitis and laryngitis, I was escorted to the “injection room,” yes, injection room. Before I could get a handle on the room situation I had a needle in my rear! Then I was gently pushed on a bed and injected with a less than friendly needle in my arm. It burned a bit. I was patched up and sent on my way. 

On Friday, the teachers were very kind and figured out a way to let me rest so I did not have to teach. By the weekend I had also managed to get an ear infection which was pretty painful. It was Sunday night, I barely knew anyone and couldn't speak a word of Korean to save my life. After tears and a phone call with mom I decided to take myself to the hospital. I told the cab driver hospital and made wild gestures to indicate my pain. He put on his flashers and magically turned into an ambulance. He was running red lights and cutting cars off left and right. The doctor gave me some Tylenol and my visit was free. He said he liked New York City and Obama. I was fine with that.

My foreign sickness has since passed and I hope to never deal with such a miserable situation while I am here. I now have a new appreciation for sick days and what they really stand for back in the U.S. 

Megteacher

That is what the students call me. No Miss or Ms., just a melodic sounding Megteacher. I have grown to like the sound of it. I have been a teacher at Swaton Language School for kids for thirteen days and have observed many things with regards to Korean education and culture. 

My school is on the 4^th floor of a modern building in downtown Cheongju. Outside of the elevator, you leave your outdoor shoes in a cupboard and swap them for some swank old man slippers. Behind the glass door of Swaton, a friendly receptionist greets the parents and students as they shuffle in before the 9:30am morning bell. 

 Kindergarten

The mornings at Swaton consist of Kindergarten from 9:30am-2: 30pm. There are forty students that occupy 5 classrooms and are divided on the basis of age and ability. The classrooms, appropriately named Brown, Boston (Boston University), Julliard, MIT and Harvard plant a subtle seed in the student’s minds of what their intended goals should be for the far future. The students who attend Swaton come from very fortunate upbringings. Families who have enough money to send their children to English school opt for schools like Swaton instead of sending them to Korean public school kindergarten.

 I have a newfound respect and admiration for Kindergarten teachers across the globe. Though the children at Swaton are Kodak cute, it can feel more like babysitting then teaching. Though the classes only run for forty minutes, an accomplishment in some of the classrooms can be to get a student to sit in his/her chair for the entire time. It can be frustrating as well because when you are aggravated and want to discipline them it is difficult. The Korean teachers can quickly resort to their Korean language and reprimand the students. And they listen (quite quickly might I add.). However, their English skills are very basic so using phrases like “if you don’t listen or be quiet you will be sent to the teacher’s room” really has no meaning. I have found that being quiet with my arms crossed is the most effective method for the students to realize that “Megteacher is mad.” Or “Look, Megteacher no talk.” For the most part, though, the Kindergarten students listen pretty well as they understand at a young age how serious a proper education is in Korea. Money is not spent on designer clothes or fancy cars; education is valued more than any material possession that fills a closet or a fancy car that can be shown off outside a dinner party. Though I am all smiles when 2:30pm rolls around, I do enjoy the younger kids and find their energy and uncontaminated souls to be refreshing. They are a constant reminder of innocence and the simple joys of life.

Elementary

My afternoons consist of students between the ages of nine-twelve who come to English academy after an arduous day at regular private school. The students have a more extensive English vocabulary and have begun to learn tenses as well as ideas and concepts associated with the English language. I prefer teaching the older students as the 1.5 hours spent with the students are more rewarding. Not to mention more is accomplished in the classroom.  The students are fascinated with New York, Obama, Angelina Jolie, pizza and Brad Pitt. The ever so tactful students were particularly interested in my freckles. Half my arm was exposed during class last week once the heat was turned back on in the school. Some of the students noticed the “dots” that dazzled my arm. I tried to explain to them that the sun causes orange spots to appear on my skin. They looked rather confused so I rolled my sleeve up to show them that my entire arm was covered with these orange specs. Well fear not, the reaction from the students was similar to telling the students I had some kind of contagious disease. I felt a bit insecure about my doting dots but I soon recovered. Thick skin is sometimes necessary here.

 I have to give the students credit as their days are filled with school, piano lessons, English lessons, studying and an occasional computer game before their heads hit the pillow. The Koreans are very ambitious and have a very strong work ethnic. I know many nine year olds back in the states who could certainly benefit from a semester abroad here in Korea.

I am happy overall with my teaching situation. My days and hours of work vary and my work week is never longer than 30 hours. Though I am just a baby to the profession, teaching has proven to be a rewarding experience. I am teaching students a skill that will be useful for any future endeavor and will potentially help them succeed in whichever profession they choose to pursue.

 My only complaint about teaching is that these schools are run very similarly to any business. No student can ever receive below a “B” and comments on monthly report cards can only be positive and praise the students for their hard work. The school does not want to lose any business so it sometimes feels like our profession is belittled to protect the school’s image. But, I am not here long enough to add my two cents about the way things work.

 Til later…

 

 

 

 

New Year, New Life

Early afternoon in Cheongju and I am of course making the most of my cultural experience by enjoying a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese for a late breakfast (I do not believe there are unlimited mimosa on sangria brunch places lining the streets of Cheongju). It is difficult to part ways with some western indulgences.

I have been here for nearly a week and I have been pretty cautious (though crazy curious) with my new surroundings. I am trying to observe the people, way of life and customs before I become a participant of everyday life…or humiliate myself and negatively brand all Americans forever and always…

My apartment is cozy; baring the necessities for an individual to lead a comfortable life. My bathroom comes furnished with just a toilet, sink and shower head…no actual shower. I believe it will take a few weeks to finesse the style of showering sans shower curtain, though I do find the new way of taking a shower quite liberating....

I had four hours of teacher training on New Years Eve and apparently that established I could teach small Korean children English. As flattering as that was, I was a bit concerned with my ability to A) teach small children while lacking a teaching degree and B) teach small children who don’t speak English (still while lacking a teaching degree). Those concerns were quickly put to rest as I was told I would start on Friday January 2^nd and teach 6 classes. I did not have enough time to think of a way to dodge my obligation.

 I went home, friendless, terrified and wildly sober. I passed out on my bed, coat and all, and woke up nearly an hour before the New Year…I decided I should make this a sober new years (the first since I was 14 and attended first night with Linda Duggan and her family) and instead ravaged through my suitcase to find chocolate given to me by the Daley family to ration during my time abroad. However, this was the  only other vice accessible before midnight and I could not hold back. I inhaled the chocolate, fell back on the bed and welcomed the New Year, not hungover but with a stomachache. I vow never to eat chocolate bars again.