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.