My Crib in the RoK

I realized I haven't posted any pictures of my studio apartment I call home, where all the lesson planning, guitar playing and Sims 3 occurs. Hence, I am providing this "Cribs"-style  photo montage of where I've been calling home in Korea for five months. One month was in Jochiwon in a dormitory, where I lived once again like a college king. But alas, real world, real apartment here I am. If I'm feeling particularly motivated, I may make a video tour. But we'll see how motivated I can - nope, lost it.

Things to note about my studio apartment:

1. My washer sounds like a jet engine is taking off and spews water all over the little floor in the little room it resides in. I throw dirty clothes in, pour in a random amount of detergent, blindly mash buttons until the green lights that light up outnumber the red lights that light up, and pray that clean laundry comes out. There are no dryers in most studios, so I hang my laundry all over every airy spot in my studio I can find.
2. I randomly mash buttons on my thermostat until the room reaches a desired temperature and my heating/cooling bill is livable, since I can't read what the buttons mean.
3. Mold is a common problem in apartments here. A few TaLK scholars got mold poisoning and had to go to the hospital for meds. I have rid my apartment of the mold that was there and have not seen any since. Winning.
4. No keys required to get into my building, just pass-codes to punch into keypads. The US should follow suit. 
5. My "closet" exposes my intimates for any visitors to see. How embarrassing.
6. Every morning, I awake to the sound of dozens of screaming children partaking in English classes at exactly 9:30. They sound just like my students, but more engaged, enthused and medicated. It's as if they are my natural alarm clock saying "Yep, that's what's coming for YOU today."
7. I fall asleep to the sounds of a dying cat (which has, from the sound of it, been dying for the past four months), soju-puking ajusis (older Korean men) and screaming ajumas. Regularly.
8. My apartment looks fairly clean, but under my desk is a growing pile of used/unused English worksheets and various kindergarten crafts. The guitar tabs in my life have been replaced by "Brown Bear Brown Bear" folding booklets. The motorcycle magazines have given way to coloring books. In the immortal words of Blink 182, I guess this is growing up. As an elementary teacher.
9. I have a lot of natural light, which I appreciate.
10. As is usual in Korea, there is no true shower, just a shower head attached to the sink, so yes, everything in the bathroom gets soaked after my 45 minute showers.
11. Overall, I'm very fortunate to have the place I do. It's clean, good location, good size, and utilities are very cheap (around $20 a month). 

Days Go By (In Korea)

Korea is a busy place. Above is a picture of the subway system in Seoul. Seoul is busy and crowded. Nice to visit but whenever I go I'm always ready to head back to the "small town" of Jeonju (pop. ~600,000). Jeonju, my home for six months, has grown on me considerably. I've been all over Korea, but I am very thankful for being placed where I have. Known as the home of bibimbamp and makgeoli, it's a good base to return to after weekends away.

I haven't put up a blog in a while, mostly because the days started to blur into a routine. A fantastic routine that I enjoy everyday, but a routine nonetheless.

MY TYPICAL DAY IN KOREA:

8:30am - I intended to wake up early and go to the gym. Sleep and my warm, comfortable, western-style bed win again. Hit snooze button.

9:30am - I intended to wake up and work on my lesson plan, infusing as much creativity, challenges and fun as I can fit into a 40 minute class period, all for the children's educational and personal growth. Wait - my warm, comfortable western-style bed wins again. Hit snooze button.

10:30am - The sound of Korean children reciting English snaps me awake, because my snooze button is now broken from overuse. "Where ARE you?" "HERE I AM!" "Where ARE you?" "HERE I AM!" I also realize I have one hour until my first bus comes and I need to do laundry, shower, pay bills, feed myself, lesson plan, talk to people back home, etc. I should have woken up at 8:30. Oh. Wait. I punch my bed in anger for its cruel psychological power it has over me. I cry.

10:45am - I roll out of bed, run into the shower, realize I didn't turn on the water heater, and cry as icicles hit my bare chest. I turn on the water heater, angered at myself that I've cried twice this morning already. Grow up, man, grow up.

11:00am - Start lesson planning while eating a tuna fish sandwich, some chips, and an orange.

11:05am - Get distracted and start playing guitar. Realize I'll never be Damien Rice and that the thin, sharp strings hurt my delicate, piano hands. I do not cry, because I'm a man. Sometimes.

11:10am - Lesson plan.

11:12am - Get distracted watching YouTube videos of America's Got Talent and Viral Video Film School.

11:20am - Lesson plan.

11:25am - Get distracted Facebooking people I got done Facebooking about eight hours ago.

11:30am - Run to my bus, sit with hajimas (elderly Korean women) as they stare at me and wonder what's different about me. Scoot over on the bus bench as elderly Korean men sit awkwardly close to me and lean in to read whatever it is I'm reading in English, then beg me for candy.

12:35pm - Arrive at my school, drag at least three children into school as they hang on me like monkeys, and repeatedly answer to "Hello Matthew Teacher!" and "Sunsangneem!" ("teacher" in Korean). Change my shoes into slippers, bow to the principal, vice principal, and any teachers walking through the halls. Print off worksheets and coloring pages for my upcoming classes. Steel my nerves with a shot of soju. Or two. Heck, a bottle's only 1200 Won. I down the thing. This teacher thing is easy now. I'm feeling warm and comfortable. Yeah.... I got this.

1:10pm - Let the chaos begin. Footsteps thunder down the halls along with laughter, squealing and squeaking. My classroom door bursts open and I get another round of "HELLO MATTHEW TEACHER!" Children pick up everything not nailed down and throw or attempt to eat it. I repeatedly yell "ANJA!" ("sit down" in Korean) and pull kids apart from each other, off the walls, and off the desks. I dodge a dongchim attack. As the children finally "sit" in their chairs, I glance around my backpack frantically for another bottle of soju. None left....

1:20pm - The children stare at me and demand I speak to them in Korean.

1:25pm - I give up on my lesson plan and start a riveting game of Hangman - to teach vocab, of course.

1:35pm - "Get off the desk."

1:36pm - "You don't need to be touching that."

1:37pm - "Please stop talking."

1:38pm - "Stop talking."

1:39pm - "TEACHER MATTHEW IS TALKING AND YOU DO NOT TALK WHEN HE IS TALKING!"

1:40pm - Having no tears left, I stare silently out the window, thinking of the positive aspects of responsible family planning. My Korean Talk Scholar, Hak, who is with me on Thursdays only, agrees.

1:45pm - After staring out the window for five minutes, I distract the children with a clip of a Pixar movie, which they quietly watch in awe. Although they understand none of the words spoken, they are captivated. Apparently if I looked like Buzz Lightyear, it wouldn't matter what I was saying - they would eat it up. The clock ticks away the minutes. Mercifully, it's close enough to the end of classtime, and I say "Goodbye!". Let the stampede begin.

1:50pm - First class done. Three to go. Go to your happy place....

4:20pm - I Facebook for 20 minutes, since my first bus does not come into my part of the countryside until sometime between 4:45 and 5:20. I hop onto the bus, surrounded by schoolchildren and hajimas. The schoolchildren are armed with the latest tablet PC or smartphone, earbuds in place. The hajimas are armed with oversized bags of kimchi and rusty bag carts. And scoliosis. We bump along through countryside and small towns, dropping off angry old men and rowdy young girls. The girls giggle and eat dried squid, while the guys rub each other's shoulders and sit on each other's laps. I don't join either crowd.

5:40pm - I arrive at my first bus stop and walk to the next one, praying that the wifi works there. If not, I have ten to thirty more minutes of time to myself to reflect on the hard day's work of changing the minds of children. Or ten to thirty more minutes of time to myself to reflect on the hard day's work of changing my mind about children.

5:43pm - The wifi works. A vocal "thank you" goes up into the heavens as I check KakaoTalk, Facebook, Words With Friends and DrawSomething. Kevin Watson, you win again. But this time only by 135 points. Progress! I feel a bit better about myself and my language retention and regurgitation capabilities that had previously been crushed by a bunch of seven year olds. Kevin asks me if I even know any multi-syllabic words. Confidence gains vanish quickly.

6:10pm - I arrive at my apartment and head straight to GS25 for ramen and pepsi. I eat my salt and sugar snack, play some guitar to clear my head, and once again check my Words With Friends games. Libby plays dulcets for 327 points. I wonder if I can challenge any of my students to a game as a "confidence booster."

7:30pm - I head to the gym, and show those hajimas a thing or two on the Smith machine and the benchpress. They stare incredulously and run (scuttle) when I approach. Clearly they are in awe of my physical prowess. And my inability to speak Korean. But mostly I think it's my physical prowess.

9:00pm - Coffee shop. Recharge time. $7 latte. Happiness has a price. And too much caffeine.

10:30pm - Skype with a cutie from Indiana. Highlight of the day? Absolutely. Nice-uh.

2:00am - After repeatedly pushing aside my lesson plans, watching YouTube clips and Facebooking, it's time for bed. Still having a strong psychological grip, my bed beckons me, and I heed the call. It's warmth envelops me, and I drift off to dreamless sleep. Four more days of glory, then - THE WEEKEND.

Which is what I'll write about next time. "Next time" might be three months though...sorry in advance.

Samnyedong Elementary School

Come on in and I'll show you around the school that I am teaching at. The name of the school is Samnyedong Elementary School, located just outside of Samnye. There are 62 students total, and I teach Monday-Friday from 1:10 - 4:20, grades Kindergarten through 6th.

To all of my friends back home who are teachers, I give you much respect and credit for what you do. Teaching is not easy, and add to that the concept of trying to get 16 little balls of Korean lightning to do what you want them to do when they don't know WHAT you're asking/telling them. The students keep demanding that I talk to them in Korean, and they are convinced I am just pretending not to know Korean. No kids, I am one of you but not one of you. Mind-blowing.

The challenges of teaching English in Korea thus far?

1. Language barrier. I have no co-teacher, no translator, and know practically no Korean, so trying to explain to the kids what to do, how to do it, what not to do, has not been easy. Luckily, fists and angry looks are universal languages.
2. Korean kids are full of energy. Turns out they don't just want to sit in desks for 40 minutes. What they do what to do is: run around the room, throw things, break things, hit things, eat things, stand on things.
3. The bus routes. This was only a challenge for the first three days, but it cost me $60 and a few missed classes. It turns out my mentor teacher told me the wrong bus stop to get on at. Now I'm a pro at navigating to school and back. Victories!
4. Lesson planning. I'm not a trained teacher, so I only know lesson planning from Google and Youtube... I've definitely improved at it, though, and it gets easier everyday.

The rewards of teaching English in Korea thus far?

This is a picture of my 2nd graders. Enough said, I think.

Also, kindergartners are a blast. So attentive, so eager, so sweet. When I sit down at their little tables on their little chairs and color with them while the bob their heads to The Alphabet Song, I can't stop smiling. And when the kindergartners line up to give me hugs at the end of every class, and they say "Goodbye Teacher," I give thanks that I have been given the opportunity to do what I'm doing here, and I savor where I am.

Where I Spent February 2012

Our orientation for the TaLK program has taken place at Korea University, Sejong Campus. The campus is located in the city of Jochiwon. These are the dorms we have been staying in.

This is the fitness center where I've been getting back into shape after two years of sitting in front of computers, eating foot-long subs and forgetting what it means to move one leg in front of the other at a rapid pace.

This is the building where we've been taking classes and lectures to become effective teachers.

Our lectures have covered a large gamut of topics, including learning such useful, tactful phrases as this:

Here's a picture of the soccer pitch we've been playing on. A group of us from America played against a group from England yesterday. Results?

England: 11
USA: 4

Yeah, seems legit.

Some other random pictures to enjoy. It's crazy to think that in five days we will be gone from our little English-speaking bubble within Korea and actually out there on our own. We're all taking full advantage of being together for one more week, with the closing ceremony taking place Thursday in Seoul.

Oh, and let's not forget: NO TUBAS ALLOWED ON CAMPUS!

South Korea Wants YOU!

Got a bit of a scare the other day. All of us who are male Korean nationals received this email from the TaLK program, letting us know that we "are required to attend a military service meeting."

The day of the meeting, we showed up and waited outside in the hallway outside the room where we were having the meeting. Guys were joking around saying, "Well boys, looks like we're all going to become close friends for the next two years."

South Korea takes its mandatory military conscription very seriously. Since the two Koreas are still technically at war, they need their military to be robust and ready at all times. Military service is also a source of pride in Korean men, and any Korean men who try to dodge the draft are ostracized for doing so. And running off to Canada isn't quite as easy in Korea.

The door to the room opened and it was filled with men in business suits, women in business suits, TV reporters and journalists. The joking ceased immediately. The tables were perfectly lined up and these forms were placed at every seat.

Suddenly it didn't seem too far off that we were all lured in with the TaLK program as the cheese and the South Korean Marine Corps as the mousetrap. I have never sat in a room that felt more tense in my life. Talk about a heavy atmosphere. We sat there in silence as photographers snapped photos and the head of the Military Manpower Administration explained in great, heavy detail what the requirements were to serve in the Korean army. I'm still not sure if it made it better or worse that I couldn't understand any of his presentation - it was entirely in Korean and used advanced vocabulary. Luckily, the booklet they'd handed us had the details explained in English, so I read through that for the hour we were there. The verdict?

I don't have to serve in the Korean military due to my weak ankles!

Well, it's either because of my ankles or my sole US citizenship. Either way, I won't be joining the Marines anytime soon. However, a few guys from the program found out that they do indeed have to serve, in which case South Korea will put a hold on their passport and require them to serve two years in the military. Surprise!

For our increased blood pressure and hour of our time, the Korean government wanted to give us a masculine, nationalistic souvenir, which I assume is fitted with a tracking device.

At the end of the lecture, they also told us that for those of us that are not required to serve, we can still choose to join and serve the country, and that we should tell our Korean friends back home that they can do the same.

America 1, South Africa 0

Teaching the King of the Hammer who it's daddy is.

Riekus accepting defeat.

Get Folky With It

My second day in Korea, we had an excursion as a group to a traditional Korean Folk Village, which is a funny name because the village is actually located in the middle of a large city. The compound, however, was huge, and there was a lot to take in. We got through maybe half of the site before we had to leave four hours later. Yes, we had bulgogi for lunch, which was a definite crowd-pleaser.

The folk village had traditional dancing, which was done by guys with streamers attached to their hats which they kept spinning while they played on salmunori instruments and dropped some impressive beats. Other beats they played made me realize where I got my mad skills when I used to play "the drums" on my mom's pots and pans in Hendersonville.

I could fill this blog with pictures, but I'll try to keep that to a minimum, since Korea pictures can be found on Facebook. I'll place quite a few here, too, just not as many as there will be on my Facebook page, so go there to get visually stunned. Note: don't look in the photo album entitled "Thinkin' 'bout Drinkin" from 2009. Those were dark times I do not remember...

At the village we saw folk dancing, music, an equine skills performance, traditional Korean houses, and a children's theme park. Random for a folk village, I know, but then this is Korea. There has to be SOMETHING flashy. There was also an arcade, so of course we went in, and my new South African friend Riekus (who is similar in size to my dad) fell to my mighty swing in a test-of-strength game. Looks like someone knows how to drop the hammer...

Tuesday we had our official opening ceremony, and they gave demonstrations of traditional Korean dancing and a performance by the K-Tigers, a group of young kids that do TaeKwonDo. It was held on the gorgeous campus of Seoul University.



After the orientation, we had a photo scavenger hunt in Seoul. Seoul is an incredible city, and there were a lot of sights to see, but we got there late and were in a time crunch so we weren't able to stop and gawk much. Oh, and yes, it was colder than cold. Several girls, a few guys, and all the South Africans were miserable. It was the type of cold where you didn't want to take out your camera and snap a picture because if you exposed any skin to the air, it felt like you were being stabbed by needles.

We're going back to Seoul tomorrow (as are 225 other TaLK scholars) so I'm going to take many more pictures. After waiting for a few girls who hopped in a taxi that drove them around Seoul for 45 minutes (not by choice), we drove back to Seoul. Sleep on the bus? Not when there's K-Pop to listen to!

The next day actual lectures started, which we have been in for several days now. They keep us pretty busy with lectures all day and after-class mini-programs (like salmunori lessons, cooking lessons, and Korean language lessons). I've also gotten back into working out regularly (two days in a row counts!), so that's been great as well. I'll get into all of that more in my next blog, which if I keep the current pace, should be up sometime in March.

Kidding.

I'll most likely post again Saturday or Sunday night. Hope everyone back in the States is happy, healthy and warm.