Dispatches - August 1, 2009

A moment free from immediate or impending deadlines is a welcome reprieve. I'm going to make the most of it with a few thoughts on recent events. Many thanks for following my journey with me and the encouraging remarks.

Yesterday I completed my third and final lesson of Camp Fulbright. Those who read the last post may recall the summer camp focused on improving English skills for attendees. Major holidays - or at least their American interpretation - was the overall camp theme. Yesterday being designated Christmas Day, I taught a lesson on the structure of the friendly correspondence letter using the tradition of leaving Santa a note. I followed a fellow English Teaching Assistant (ETA) who did a terrific lesson on shapes employing a tree ornament theme so my lesson was not quite a homerun, but I think the students learned something.

Keeping interest and occupying the full allotted time of a class period are two of my top concerns when I contemplate teaching full-time. The Fulbright Program has explored in depth the Korean educational system and teaching methods. One common thread has been how the length of a typical school day and pure one-directional instruction methods often render students exhausted and non-responsive in class. In the United States, interactive teaching and a vibrant learning community are hallmarks of the classroom, but in Korea students are expected - and accustomed to - simply consuming and digesting information in a pure lecture format. For ETA's this often translates into blank stares and what could be take as disinterest. Hatching students from their shells to encourage participation and dialogue in a classroom can be a true challenge. I have often said that a 'cheerleader' I am not. To motivate my students, however, raising my visible energy level and passing that along to my class will be a challenge I need to meet.

On that note, the instructors for whom we teach during our Camp Fulbright lessons critique ETA's in a post-lesson follow-up meeting. While I'm not sure how candid the instructors are willing to be, I have received decent marks thus far. A consistent compliment has been a sense of presense that comes from my time in the classroom - I suspect much of it has to do with bow ties and suspenders - but I naturally tend to treat students like adults. My theory is that - as children - we all want to be grown-ups. Children respond well when they are spoken to in a fashion that assumes maturity and respect. I've been told that this may or may not work in Korea - children here sometimes want to be treated as such.

One constructive suggestion that has surfaced more than once is my vocabulary. Without constant conscious attention, it is very easy to speak to students as though they are native English speakers. Before arriving in Korea, I rarely thought of how my words and phrases in speech blend into each other and just how much slang and technically-imperfect grammar and usage creeps into everyday speech. Slowing down, avoiding large or complex words, and being precise are necessary habits for a successful teacher in this program and definitely something I hope to hone in the coming months.

And a busy month lies ahead. Next Wednesday everyone will attend the placement meeting. From what I gather, it is an emotional affair where individual ETA's are called forward in front of a map and given their specific city assignment. Emotions run strong as people are either ecstatic for securing a location they wanted or devastated for being separated from friends or placed in what they view as a less-than-ideal location. I've mentioned on more than one occasion that I genuinely get along with every person here and, in that respect, I think I could be happy with an assignment near anyone. I've lived in big cities and small towns and see benefits and drawbacks to both. In short, I'm tremendously curious about placement day, but I hope to take it in stride.

I suppose that is a healthy method for this experience - and life - in general. There are quite a few California natives in this program - my roommate included. With an impending move to Los Angeles for law school, I have spoken to many of them about their homes and the west coast in general. From my dress to my mannerisms, it is hard to hide that I am an 'east coaster', but I am curious if (and if so, how long it will take) I will adopt the more laid-back vibe that exudes from the west. At first blush I think it's fair to say that I can make the impression as a bit uptight. I'll be the first to admit that I take many things more seriously than others I know, but I like to think that I can relax and procrastinate with the best of them (see Exhibit A: my deplorable lack of Korean language skills upon arrival).

Perhaps that's why labeling people to fit them into an easily-digestible category has never sat well with me. If personality traits are ultimately a recipe combining inherent and learned habits throughout thousands of days walking the earth, telling someone uptight to relax seems about as unhelpful as telling someone relaxed to tighten up. That being said, everyone has moments that call for renewed diligence and those that conversely permit us to decompress. I'm hoping this weekend has more of the latter in store for me. Then again perhaps this entire vein of thought betrays someone a little too uptight...

Dispatches - July 23, 2009

With Tae Kwon Do lessons, Korean language classes, and the host of cultural workshops planned for Fulbrighters, it is easy to lose touch with our ultimate purpose in Korea: to teach. This past week has been a vivid reminder of just what we are here to do. Yesterday I began the student teaching element of orientation by giving a fifty minute lesson to a group of summer campers staying at the university. The campers are middle and high school students from around Korea who are attending the camp to improve their English – there are traditional summer camp themes, but also a focus on speaking only English and receiving classroom instruction during the day. The tantamount import placed upon English as illustrated by these camps will resonate with those that have read earlier posts.

Former English teaching assistants (ETA's) serve as the instructors and camp counselors. They have fairly elaborate and detailed lesson plans. My classmates and I each teach three of their periods and try to match their theme. The instructor with whom I am first paired has the theme of music. I like to say that my life has a soundtrack – I'm always listening to something – so I was excited to explore the topic with Korean students. My favorite genre is 1990's grunge which, to those that know the genre, is not exactly a typical academic pursuit, but I put together some of the more docile songs and video clips of grunge bands to convey the main themes, images, and sounds of the style.

Surprisingly my instructor was enthusiastic about the lesson and fully supported my plan. Public speaking – teaching included – has always been a love/hate relationship for me. I have a habit of building a vicious cycle of nervousness prior to presenting, but I feel that I am usually effective and decently-skilled at connecting with my audience. I never thought that a group of ten Korean high schoolers would have my nerves so rattled, but I used my bow tie as a secret weapon to soften the crowd and build some rapport with the class.

Unfortunately my bow tie wasn't of much use when it came to my PowerPoint presentation which seemed to be in an incorrect format for the computer. Left without most of my material, I improvised with a worksheet and some songs on my iPod. Given the circumstances, I was very pleased with the class. To be fair, the students were very well-behaved and surprisingly interactive. During many of our workshops, Fulbrighters were told of the general lack of creativity in Korean schools and how independent thinking is simply not something that equates with Korean youth. The all-important college entrance exam and the massive amount of studying it receives often leaves students exhausted during the day and sleeping in class is quite common. The other side of the spectrum are boys engaged in playful fighting games and girls fixing hair. My students yesterday remained attentive and offered answers without undue prodding so I feel very fortunate. One humorous anecdote was a t-shirt worn by one of the girls. Anything with English writing is very popular in Korea and it is not uncommon to see baseball hats of popular American sports teams worn by Koreans who have no idea what the logos represent. At any rate, my classmates and I have noticed the popular trend of t-shirts with somewhat witty English phrases. Conversely, some of them make little – if any – sense. Some of them feature thin innuendo. As a case in point, yesterday there was a very helpful student wearing a shirt that, in bold letters, read 'I'M SO f*&%@ing DISCO'. Clearly some of the phrases on these t-shirts are lost on the owners. To be fair, they could give me a similar article of clothing with Korean writing and I wouldn't have a clue what it said.

There are fun 'lost in translation' anecdotes abound in our program. Studying, eating, living, and generally surrounding oneself with a small group of American students, however, is an easy way to forget that we are indeed on the other side of the world. This past weekend, however, the Fulbright Office took us on a vacation to Songnisan – a small mountain village about three hours south of Kangwon University (our orientation site). Songnisan is apparently ranked as the eighth most beautiful place in Korea and, after exploring the quaint and picturesque town, I can see why. We arrived Friday morning to a restaurant where we took our shoes off to sit at very low tables. On the table were dozens of small plates filled with local fare – everything from whole fish fried to green tree leaves coated in a light crispy outer shell. There were tree branches that the more inquisitive amongst us simply bit into and there were more varieties of fungi and mushrooms than I have ever seen – apparently Songnisan is the mushroom capital of Korea.

Friday afternoon featured a lecture by a Zen Buddhist monk. Having been exposed to Buddhism principles during college, I was able to follow along. I fully admit to being slightly materialistic and have often found the Buddhist teachings about worldly pursuits and the suffering they cause to be quite poignant. The austere lifestyle these monks lead, however, is truly difficult to wrap one's mind around. To put it simply – and most-likely incorrectly – they attempt to shed all earthly attachments to find their true essence devoid of external stimuli. Things such as clothes, enjoyable food, and status are all impediments and to be avoided.

Next we went on a tour of a 1400 year old monastery. The intricacies in the woodwork and painting were truly humbling. Imagining the effort necessitated by such detail was awe-inspiring. Towards the end of our visit we even witnessed one of the daily drumming rituals which consisted of carefully planned and skillfully executed rhythms on large drums – lasting at least ten minutes.

The following day was entirely ours to do with as we pleased. Many ETA's explored the mountains surrounding Songnisan and the trails leading to breathtaking peaks. As a Boy Scout, I've done plenty of hiking in my day and I was confident in my ability to survive on the trails, but I did not expect a 7-hour round trip that rose a thousand feet in elevation. I performed the entire trip in a pair of flip-flops – watching my steps carefully – and was somewhat surprised that I fared so well and made it back in one piece. The view at the top facilitated a realization that indeed we were in Korea. The wind whipping across the bald summit, the views stretching to the horizons, the picture window sight of a single tree gripping a mountainside – bending near-horizontal on a cliff – are views for which this blog is ill-equipped. I'll post the copious photos I snapped soon.

Returning to the university, we quickly re-entered language classes and teaching preparation. This week we submit a preference form that will be used – in theory – to help the office decide where our final placements will be. There is much whispering among my classmates as individuals try to decide their inclination to be rural or urban, at a large or small school, all boys or all girls or co-ed classes, and which friends they would like to be close to. I'm torn between indicating a desire to stay close to a group of friends and a desire to fully explore myself through a distant placement and the isolation it may bring.

As I write this for friends and family back in the United States, I am reminded about a lingering sentiment that has surfaced from time to time within the past week. I have yet to self-diagnose an acute case of homesickness – to be honest I think I am too busy to catch one – but I have noticed that the thought of America after my grant is not an unwelcome topic in my mind. To be sure there are countless experiences yet to unfold in Korea – I've not yet even arrived in my homestay. My time thus far, however, has lead to not only an introduction to Korean culture, but also some introspection about my own opinions, values, and preferences. Having multiple examples of life with which to juxtapose has begun a framework for the kind of life I would like to create for myself in the future.

Dispatches - July 15, 2009

As a blogging novice, I am left with little doubt that few are following these posts. That being said, those that are checking every so often will notice the delay in updates as of late. And for good reason.

I've spent a notable amount of real estate in these pages equating the Fulbright Orientation thus far to a personal collegiate renaissance. It's easy to forget that college is not all apartment parties and club events. The past few days have been a stark reminder of the late nights and early mornings spent committing facts to memory for an exam or hammering out finer points for a paper. My consistent ability as an undergraduate to function on 4-5 hours of sleep for stretches at a time while writing some decent papers has long been a source of pride. I've had to rekindle that 'old college try' spirit this week with daily Korean vocabulary quizzes, hypothetical lesson plans, and extracurricular activities.

Korean continues to present the largest struggle. My instructors are two very patient and very enthusiastic young women from Seoul. How they have the energy and stamina of disposition to sound out letters and rudimentary sentence structures for hours a day is beyond me. This Monday was our first official quiz and, suffice to say, on Tuesday many of the ETAs (Fulbright vernacular for 'English Teaching Assistants') were assigned mandatory study hours. I performed rather poorly myself, despite studying, and have found the afternoons and evenings of the past few days completely monopolized by required events. Yesterday, for example, I went straight from class to Tae Kwon Do practice to a cab outside the dormitory to take us to a Korean drumming class. After returning from drumming, I had fifteen minutes to shower and make it up to an hour of mandatory study hour (unaffectionately deemed 'detention'). After study hour, I had a study session with You Hana – my Korean instructor for the first class period. Following You Hana's help with my homework, I quickly typed up the remaining answers to a required reflection piece that was due at midnight. It was 1:00 a.m before I caught my breath – just in time to begin studying for another vocabulary quiz eight hours later at 9:00 a.m.

The past few days have been an iteration of that level of scheduling. My iPod Touch has been a big help for scheduling on the go and keeping track of my homework assignments. Surfing the web when wireless is available is an added bonus, but the program directors have caught on and warned of confiscation consequences should someone be caught on a device during a presentation.

On that note, there has been a steady stream of presenters throughout the past week. The most recent batch has been focused on various elements of teaching. Today we heard someone discuss classroom management and methods to control, reward, and punish students. Yesterday featured an ETA about to complete her grant who employed games often in her classroom and had helpful advice for ETAs planning on doing the same.

Yesterday we had a visit from a retired professor of Korean history. It was a bit early in the morning for a history lesson, but the material was fascinating. He touched upon the influence of Confucianism as well as Korea's long history of struggle to maintain a national identity. He was alive during Japanese occupation and was assigned a different last name in elementary school as part of an effort to completely control and mobilize the Korean people. I've started an email dialogue with this professor – I'm trying to recall material from my Confucianism course in college to ask pertinent questions.

The final presentation I'll mention stretched from the late morning to the early afternoon on Sunday. We were visited by a former Fulbrighter who has spent the better part of the past 15 years in Korea. From what I can gather, he is a private tutor and also a professional photographer. He spent the first half of his talk addressing the stereotypes and cultural hurdles that Fulbrighters might confront during their grant. Much like American popular culture condenses other nations and cultures into easily-digestible soundbites, it seems many Koreans have a particular notion of Americans. It was fascinating to learn that Korean-American Fulbrighters can have difficulty surmounting the bias many native Koreans have in expecting the Americans to speak fluent Korean. While just American as a blonde-haired and blue-eyed variety, the Korean-American is saddled with increased expectations whereas a 'typical' American (read: Caucasian as seen on American television) can get away with knowing much less Korean and understanding fewer accepted norms of propriety.

I have long-considered teaching English abroad as a pseudo-philanthropic – or at least an admirable – pursuit. This occupied the same space in my mind as my consideration of Korea as a model education system. This presentation, however, completely turned that concept on it's head. We learned that English is used as a status symbol of sorts. Much like a resident of the UK with a refined British accent seems ever-so-slightly above the everyday American, a person speaking perfect English is considered in a higher echelon of Korean society. There were examples given of students trying to 'dumb-down' their English skills around friends so as to not alienate themselves. The importance rested upon English can be directly related to the entrance examination for Korean high school students. This omnipotent test is like the SAT's in the United States, but far more critical.

Apparently certain segments of society – the upper ranks and jobs – are inaccessible without first graduating from one of three prestigious universities. To land a spot in these ultra-competitive schools, the entrance exam is critical. The exam is composed of math and English and thus it becomes vividly apparent why families consider options such as moving to the United States, New Zealand, or England for a few years to spending large percentages of discretionary resources on secondary schools designed solely for exam preparation. These hagwon - as they are called - were evidence for the presenter that the Korean system had failed. No longer can a student expect or hope to rise to a prestigious job without spending considerable time - and money - in the hagwon system.

In this cycle that often leaves students overworked and exhausted, the English teacher can be viewed in a rather unfavorable light – as part of the problem. While I will need my full grant year to make that judgment, I was extremely interested in this perspective and glad for the contrarian view.

At any rate, I now have an opportunity to sleep for more than 5 hours and I plan on taking full advantage. While I am prone to focusing on the negative, I remain grateful for and impressed with the tremendous organization required to arrange the events and materials that are so filling my calendar. Having a core group of bright and motivated classmates with perpetually-pleasant dispositions has been invaluable. Before embarking on my grant year, I often contemplated the difficulties I could encounter in a homestay and the personal evolution I would require to adapt to life in Korea. Orientation was a secondary thought – a brief interlude. I began feeling within the past two days that I may very much experience 'homesickness' from Orientation as a I leave this rich environment for the homestay. Of course it's only the second week and there is plenty of material yet to cover, but I have felt a question formulating about the situations from which I derive value and happiness and how to recreate them in a long-term scenario. Amid the cultural and lingual learnings I hope for a chance to pause ever so briefly – every so often – and contemplate what I have learned about myself as well.

Dispatches - July 10, 2009

This morning I had my first quiz in quite a while. I was up considerably past my bedtime devising memory tricks for classroom objects. The quiz went well and I am finding that I feel much stronger translating sounds into syllables than turning syllables into sounds. Later in class I mused how silly I must sound to our teachers as I take long pauses to translate a group of letters into a sound and joining sounds into phrases. The language will definitely be a challenge, but a challenge is just what I signed up for.

Outside of the classroom, we have been treated to a full spectrum of weather. From very early morning through early evening – a solid 13 to 14 hours - there was consistent downpour. Apparently we are in a monsoon season and I am convinced. The sides of roads were swift currents leading into what must be a brilliantly-designed sewer system. Puddles were almost always deep enough to drown a misplaced step so everyone opted to wear flip-flops and accepted wet feet for the day. I spent most of my childhood in Atlanta and Georgia summers are unpleasant at best with heat and humidity. Some have warned of hot and sticky Korean weather, but to be honest I haven't experienced anything that rivals a typical summer day in the States.

And now that my second suitcase has made a safe – albeit tardy – arrival to Kang Won University I am somewhat equipped to deal with whatever nature has in store. Opening my lost suitcase after a few days of subsistence living from my carry-on was like Christmas morning. Those that know me know my problem with clothes, so rediscovering all that I had packed has been a terrific return to pseudo-normalcy.

Beyond language and cultural observations, personal reflection has been a dominant theme of mine as of late. Borrowing cafeteria silverware (chopsticks in this country), buying a message board for my door, and late night impromptu conversations about musical tastes with a neighbor down the hall have all contributed to my collegiate renaissance. Remarking how college is the best time of one's life is indeed cliché, but remarking how one had a chance to relive it is unique. Since graduating in 2006, I have oft-asserted that I was going to savor my eventual return to academia because, having worked in the 'real world', I understand just how idyllic college can be. I assumed my renaissance would have to wait until law school and, as such, would be considerably sullied by unpleasant briefs, class outlines, and time spent in the library. The training element of the Fulbright grant and the dorm camaraderie has been a welcome surprise.

Between the language instruction and the extracurricular activities, it's easy to forget our ultimate role in Korea: teachers. Yesterday the program coordinators began a series of presentations focussing on the Korean education system and the many different environments in which Fulbright English Teaching Assistants may find themselves placed. There are tradeoffs between rural and urban placements, single-sex and co-ed student bodies. At this naïve juncture, I would like a somewhat urban placement for the increased likelihood of access to Korean language classes, but perhaps counter-intuitively, a rural placement with less spoken English may prove the most helpful for developing my language skills. I plan on keeping my ears open as current and past English Teaching Assistants (ETA's) present in the coming weeks to find a preference best-suited to my goals.

One goal I feel fairly satisfied with in terms of my progress thus far has been taking advantage of the resources and opportunity the Fulbright can arrange. Last night I attended a traditional tea ceremony. I had read numerous accounts of Japanese tea ceremonies and, as far as I can tell, much is the same in the Korean variety. I plan on researching what I witnessed last night to discover the finer points I may have lost in translation. The careful attention paid to every element of serving tea – from the folds of the clothe used by the server to the measured drops from pot to cup – candidly illustrates the effort needed to master the art. I have read that a proper tea ceremony can take hours to perform and years to perfect. As someone who is a bit of a perfectionist, myself, I appreciate the aspiration to an ideal state. From the admittedly-little that I know about Asian culture from various courses and readings – and I hesitate to stereotype – outward appearance, honor, and following accepted norms of propriety are of tantamount importance. I have begun to make the connection between these traits and the Korean education system but, as I should consciously do in all I encounter – I hope to allow my experience in the coming year to shape my understanding.

Dispatches - July 8, 2009

It's been busy at Orientation. Korean language classes started yesterday and I was met with the sobering realization that mastering this language will take far longer than the year I have to give it. The alphabet is fairly logical in it's progression, but the vowels are difficult for English speakers to distinguish. Our teacher often resorts to showing how the mouth moved to make the distinct sounds because, without close inspection, they are identical to those native to English. We have class for four hours in the morning and it's a bit of a marathon – admittedly I am not used to sitting through a class so this is the other side of the coin to reacquainting myself to student life.

An interesting element of international exchange took place since my last post. We went through a health screening immediately upon exiting the plane, but beyond that I haven't given much attention to health concerns. That is, at least, until we were notified on Monday that we had been quarantined by the university. Apparently one of our classmates wasn't feeling well upon waking on Monday and went to the hospital. Due to swine flu concerns, the university restricted our movement around campus. When I think 'quarantine' I think of much more dire circumstances than those in which we were placed – we had a separate room in the cafeteria and were told not to explore campus that day. Things are back to normal now, but I think we got a kick out of the circumstances – though I'll confess that the university's concerns were not unreasonable.

I've signed up for a few extracurriculars – we were fitted for our Tae Kwon Do uniforms today and classes start tomorrow. I'm very excited to channel my inner Bruce Lee. I also go to a tea ceremony tomorrow night and, at some point in the future, I am in a percussion drum and paper art class. Fitting all this in and giving proper attention to the language is a concern, but I could hardly imagine another opportunity to explore this pursuits in the near future.

Yesterday was 'Western Breakfast Day' at the cafeteria. 'Breakfast' is used with a bit of license because it was food Americans would be used to eating at other times of the day – a salad and sandwich material. I didn't argue with semantics, though, and thoroughly enjoyed the fare. Unfortunately today was a return to status quo and I continue to be challenged by the food. I'm starting to wonder if it will match closely the food in my homestay and, if so, how I can sneak peanut butter and bread into my room. I'm going to try valiantly to give this diet a full week, but things aren't looking good. The Dunkin' Donuts right out the back gate of the university is tremendously tempting, but I'm sure I would be at least slightly disappointed in my resolve to experience the culture if I skipped most meals with a coffee, 'cream and sugar'.

Dispatches - July 5, 2009

I write from my dorm room in Chun Cheon, south and east of Seoul. Our flight from Los Angeles arrived around 5:00 a.m. I was impressed with Asiana Airlines – I snagged some trail mix from the international terminal in LA thinking that it might be my only hope for sustenance for the next twelve hours, but as I started to open it somewhere over the Pacific, a flight attendant inferred that I might be hungry and brought me a turkey sandwich on a platter...I could get used to this.

The honeymoon with Asiana ended when one of my suitcases didn't appear at baggage. To be fair, it could quite possibly have been United's fault. Come to think of it, after the episode of weight limit harrassment back in Philly I am resting sole blame on United.

Anyway, the late bag happened to be the bag designated for training. I write in a button down and dress slacks – from my suitcase packed with attire for the fall and winter. I've taken preemptive measures with my classmates by explaining that no, I do not enjoy dress clothes in July, I just don't have anything else to wear.

I asked for an adventure and I'm getting it. The bus ride from Seoul was terrific – I had not realized how mountainous Korea is. We went through what must have been a dozen tunnels through scenic mountain valleys and over just as many bridges spanning wide and slow-moving rivers.

My knowledge of the alphabet seems average. There are some that have phrases and grammar rules down and others that started studying on the plane. Classes start tomorrow so presumably more notes on the language will follow. My usage thus far has involved pure pantomimes. Lacking my towel and shower gear, I headed down to the corner store and was able to convey soap, shampoo, and a towel to the helpful clerk. The baggage problem I could do without, but circumstances could be worse.

My classmates – the ones I have met thus far – seem very pleasant. Outgoing personalities are the norm. Through some sixth sense we were able to spot each other in terminals and form Fulbright clusters. Conversations seem to go in waves – light banter about schools and home towns and then ever-so-slightly awkward pauses as we try to find other topics to explore. I always enjoyed dorm living and I'm glad to be back. It's a pretty classic set-up with bunked beds, two desks, and two wardrobe cabinets. We are all on two floors of the dorm and it's great to have ready access to people down the hall.

The next day and a half involve program introductions, language placement, and various sessions designed to get us accustomed to the program, our role, and what to expect. Similarities between this and freshman orientation are striking – including but not limited to name tags, mistakenly referring to program directors as 'RA's', and a cafeteria with rumored-to-be-lackluster food next door.

For a long time I have been focused on law school and a pleasant surprise to this program has been more than a few fellow teachers that are from Los Angeles and can fill me in on UCLA. For the moment, however, I can't help but feel I'm back in college – and I'm glad for the chance to go back for seconds.

Dispatches - July 3, 2009

After a few unexpected hurdles, I write from seat 12C a few thousand feet about Pennsylvania. After months of anticipation and incremental preparation (read 'procrastination'), it is more than a little surreal to finally hit the road.

It's a bit of a staggered start. I reach Seoul via Chicago and Los Angeles. More experienced travelers have bemoaned my roundabout itinerary, but I must confess that breaks in flying time and a chance to poke around LA – even if it's just LAX – have made the flight path just fine by me. In another testament to my travel skills – or lack thereof – I just left 22.5 pounds of my prized possessions back in Philadelphia. Much to my chagrin, I became one of 'those people' frantically rummaging through my suitcases in the middle of the departures terminal, desperately trying to save $150 in excess baggage fees by shedding 10 pounds in each suitcase. Beyond the obvious embarrassment and added anxiety of mistakenly shaving a necessary article from my luggage, I revoked my own self-bestowed status as an efficient packer – only time will tell what I miss in Korea. Whether I miss it or not, I just left a year's supply of floss (apparently in scant supply over there) with my parents.

Trying to anticipate what physical items to bring to Korea was perhaps a more valuable lesson in how little I currently know about my destination. By the same token, however, it's also a testament to how much I stand to learn. Knowing myself and my predisposition to worrying, I am proud of my cool approach to this adventure and my heretofore success in keeping my anticipations at bay. I expect considerable cultural chaos, awkward assimilation, and frequent frustration with a foreign language.

Those that know me well know that I like to have my ducks in a row. To a fault I am not extemporaneous – a year in Korea with a high dose of adventure should prove to be just the medicine I need to mellow out a bit. If not now I fear never. It's law school, a firm, and finality. I have a strong and deep suspicion that there is more to life – I've seen friends discover it – but until now I've never taken a leap to answer my own question. As much as I like to imagine myself as a cool independent – reliant on no one – the kindness of friends and family as of late has been a bittersweet reminder of all that I leave behind. Korea is a chance to explore a completely foreign culture. But as I have already discovered, it is a chance to explore a completely foreign part of myself as well.