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.