I have dreams sometimes lately. (This is really unusual for me. As long as I can remember, I have rarely dreamt, or at least have rarely remembered having dreamt.) My dreams now are often about teaching; sometimes, I wake up certain that I have overslept a class or that a certain class went really well or that a certain class went really poorly. More often than not, my dreams are filled with anxiety. This doesn't surprise me; after all, I have a lot of anxiety about teaching.
Last night I had a dream/nightmare about a lot of people that I didn't know very well in Ann Arbor. Lauren Keils, for example, featured prominently in my dream. The plot of the dream is blurry, but the main setting was definitely Orchid Lane in Ann Arbor, and Lauren was definitely the protagonist. There was a serial killer on the loose, and a lot of other people that I only knew vaguely in Ann Arbor were the victims. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, I think there was a team of serial killers on the loose. Maybe they were siblings. Maybe there were three of them. Maybe only two.
Lauren was the owner of Orchid Lane (which was where all of the people were being killed), and maybe she decided to track down the serial killers in a mysterious and carefree sort of way. I have no recollection of what my own role was. There was a lot of blood in the dream, a lot of corpses.
My first thought when I woke up this morning was "what the FUCK" promptly followed by "oh FUCK, I've overslept." I rushed around to get ready for work, arrived at school, taught five classes and spent most of my in-between-classes time being depressed and deciding that I am a failure. And now I have finished my last class of the day, and my first thought when I sat back down at my desk was "I had a dream last night, what the FUCK."
My dreams bewilder me. I bewilder myself.
Friday, 27 November 2009
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
I begin to insert myself into my co-teachers' good time.
You all know by now that I have doubts about my teaching skills. Most of the time, I ask a lot of advice from my co-teachers and defer to their judgment in times of uncertainty, trusting that they know more than I do about what's best for our students.
The exception to this is Han Jin-An, the older male teacher who barely speaks English. I know from the other teachers that he has a reputation for not caring very much about the students or how much they learn. Generally, about 90% of the students sleep during his class (the English classes he teaches alone, not the ones I teach). He makes no effort to wake them up. His participation and attendance in the classes we "co-teach" are spotty to nonexistent, and so I have had to rely on my own judgment from the beginning in his classes. I have had to decide what is best for my students in the 50-minute time slot that I have influence over their lives.
And this reliance on my own judgment is beginning to spill over into the rest of my classes, I think. I am starting to knowingly go against the will of my well-meaning co-teachers on occasion, over small things.
For example, last week I taught family vocabulary and expressions to both 1st and 2nd graders. To get their attention, I made up a poster of my family tree, using pictures that I printed from my computer's photo collection and from the photos Mom has scanned and put online recently. While making the poster, I hesitated over the little red hearts I was cutting and pasting to represent marriage. To lie to my students and tell them my parents are married, or to draw a zig-zag line through the heart and teach them how to say "divorce"?
Divorce is a taboo subject in Korea. It's really, really looked down upon. Prior to doing the family lesson, I hadn't told even the teachers I am closest to that my parents are divorced. And it's not because I'm ashamed of it, or because I'm still upset about it. I don't think either of those things are true. But they just assumed that of course my parents were married, and you know, Park Mi-Ran is the immovable force.
But a lot of my students come from so-called "broken" families. Many of their parents are divorced, many of them were raised by single parents. Some of their parents died when they were young, some of their parents deserted them, some of their parents abused them. Some of them were raised entirely by their grandparents. Etc. And these students are so ashamed of this, so ashamed that their families are not picture perfect.
How could I not tell them my parents are divorced? How could I not laugh along with them when one student said "goodbye, heartbreaker!" when I asked them to think about why the heart over my mom and dad was different from the hearts over my grandparents and my aunts/uncles? How could I not give them a reason to be more open with me, to show them that a different family doesn't have to mean a sad family? They look up to me. Maybe knowing that I am the product of divorced parents will help them believe that they can be happy and successful, they can do exciting things too. (Because to them, my life is so strange and exciting.)
So in every class, I purposely highlighted the reason for the zig-zag line, despite the fact that it was easy to see that my co-teachers were uncomfortable with it. Because I thought: "this is a good thing for my students."
Then, today, one of my students said, "Pamela, you like black men? Black people what name?" They are so curious about the existence of black people in the U.S.; it is strange to them to think that I grew up in the presence of black people (and not even that many! I grew up in suburbia, for christ's sake!). Most of them have only ever seen a black person in the movies, usually represented as a gangster. There's a lot of racism directed towards black people here, way more than in the U.S., and way more blatantly.
When the student asked me those questions, my co-teacher immediately tried to steer me away from the situation. But I said, "No, please help us talk about this, this is important." Because this student wanted to learn something real, for once, and I wanted to teach it to him. And maybe now he thinks of black people as a little less like "others" than he did before.
The point is, I still let myself be guided by my co-teachers in a lot of situations. But I'm starting to think that sometimes I know what is good for my students, too; I am capable of teaching them something real.
The exception to this is Han Jin-An, the older male teacher who barely speaks English. I know from the other teachers that he has a reputation for not caring very much about the students or how much they learn. Generally, about 90% of the students sleep during his class (the English classes he teaches alone, not the ones I teach). He makes no effort to wake them up. His participation and attendance in the classes we "co-teach" are spotty to nonexistent, and so I have had to rely on my own judgment from the beginning in his classes. I have had to decide what is best for my students in the 50-minute time slot that I have influence over their lives.
And this reliance on my own judgment is beginning to spill over into the rest of my classes, I think. I am starting to knowingly go against the will of my well-meaning co-teachers on occasion, over small things.
For example, last week I taught family vocabulary and expressions to both 1st and 2nd graders. To get their attention, I made up a poster of my family tree, using pictures that I printed from my computer's photo collection and from the photos Mom has scanned and put online recently. While making the poster, I hesitated over the little red hearts I was cutting and pasting to represent marriage. To lie to my students and tell them my parents are married, or to draw a zig-zag line through the heart and teach them how to say "divorce"?
Divorce is a taboo subject in Korea. It's really, really looked down upon. Prior to doing the family lesson, I hadn't told even the teachers I am closest to that my parents are divorced. And it's not because I'm ashamed of it, or because I'm still upset about it. I don't think either of those things are true. But they just assumed that of course my parents were married, and you know, Park Mi-Ran is the immovable force.
But a lot of my students come from so-called "broken" families. Many of their parents are divorced, many of them were raised by single parents. Some of their parents died when they were young, some of their parents deserted them, some of their parents abused them. Some of them were raised entirely by their grandparents. Etc. And these students are so ashamed of this, so ashamed that their families are not picture perfect.
How could I not tell them my parents are divorced? How could I not laugh along with them when one student said "goodbye, heartbreaker!" when I asked them to think about why the heart over my mom and dad was different from the hearts over my grandparents and my aunts/uncles? How could I not give them a reason to be more open with me, to show them that a different family doesn't have to mean a sad family? They look up to me. Maybe knowing that I am the product of divorced parents will help them believe that they can be happy and successful, they can do exciting things too. (Because to them, my life is so strange and exciting.)
So in every class, I purposely highlighted the reason for the zig-zag line, despite the fact that it was easy to see that my co-teachers were uncomfortable with it. Because I thought: "this is a good thing for my students."
Then, today, one of my students said, "Pamela, you like black men? Black people what name?" They are so curious about the existence of black people in the U.S.; it is strange to them to think that I grew up in the presence of black people (and not even that many! I grew up in suburbia, for christ's sake!). Most of them have only ever seen a black person in the movies, usually represented as a gangster. There's a lot of racism directed towards black people here, way more than in the U.S., and way more blatantly.
When the student asked me those questions, my co-teacher immediately tried to steer me away from the situation. But I said, "No, please help us talk about this, this is important." Because this student wanted to learn something real, for once, and I wanted to teach it to him. And maybe now he thinks of black people as a little less like "others" than he did before.
The point is, I still let myself be guided by my co-teachers in a lot of situations. But I'm starting to think that sometimes I know what is good for my students, too; I am capable of teaching them something real.
Monday, 23 November 2009
I can't stop listening to Super Junior.
Please, no one ever tell South Korea how homoerotic it is, because then it will stop and then I will be sad.
For example, this video. Please note the pumping/thrusting gymnasium action that starts at about 0:35.
For example, this video, too. Obligatory sad heterosexual breakup story & brief appearance of the heartbreaker-woman at beginning, followed by 4 minutes of men giving each other longing looks while singing "it's you" (nuh-rah-ko).
For example, women holding hands with women walking down the street.
For example, my students putting their hands on their friends' shoulders and giving each other massages and running their fingers through their friends' hair. Casually fondling each other in ways that would immediately scream "we're a couple!" in the U.S. They do it most frequently when one of their friends is sick/has a headache. I generally allow the sick students to rest/sleep during class, and their friends will usually sit next to them and casually rub their backs or massage their necks/scalps while participating in class and/or diligently doing the activities I assign.
It's so cute. I love it. I hope no one ever makes these kids feel ashamed for the physical way they express affection for each other.
For example, this video. Please note the pumping/thrusting gymnasium action that starts at about 0:35.
For example, this video, too. Obligatory sad heterosexual breakup story & brief appearance of the heartbreaker-woman at beginning, followed by 4 minutes of men giving each other longing looks while singing "it's you" (nuh-rah-ko).
For example, women holding hands with women walking down the street.
For example, my students putting their hands on their friends' shoulders and giving each other massages and running their fingers through their friends' hair. Casually fondling each other in ways that would immediately scream "we're a couple!" in the U.S. They do it most frequently when one of their friends is sick/has a headache. I generally allow the sick students to rest/sleep during class, and their friends will usually sit next to them and casually rub their backs or massage their necks/scalps while participating in class and/or diligently doing the activities I assign.
It's so cute. I love it. I hope no one ever makes these kids feel ashamed for the physical way they express affection for each other.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
RU HAPPY NOW, JANE?
Hello Kitty subway card (@twcwar), as requested.
Today I went to Dr. Fish with some people from orientation. The fish are fed very little to keep them hungry, and when you put your feet into the water they eat the dead skin off your feet. It's famous as a pedicure method. I am conflicted about it (how inhumane to constantly keep the fish on the edge of starvation!), but my curiosity about how it would feel got the best of me.And it feels fucking terrifying, for the record.
Delicious (and cute!) strawberry-rhubarb pie.Saturday, 21 November 2009
"Did you poop on my head?"
A lot of the students at Seoul Electronics High School smoke. In Korea, smoking is typically seen as an exclusively male habit (read: many women do smoke, but never in public. There are special smoking rooms in many public restrooms for women). But both girls and boys at my school are frequently caught and reprimanded for smoking on school grounds.
On a practical level, what this means for me is that when students ask to go to the bathroom during class, they usually don't have to go to the bathroom. They want to go to the bathroom to smoke. Which means: as much as I am opposed to the public school system having power over students' bodily needs, I can't just let them go without a fuss.
This conversation happened in one of the 2nd grade classes I have with Han Jin-An yesterday:
Student: "Teach-ah, toilet!"
Me: "Oh, you mean 'Can I go to the bathroom, please?'"
Student: "Yes, can I go bathroom please?"
Me: "Okay, you have 1 minute."
Student clutches at his stomach and makes groaning noises, then appeals to his classmates to help him explain the situation to me.
Different Student Who is Very Good at English: "Teacher, it's poop!"
Me: "Oh, really? Okay, 2 minutes."
Entire class erupts in laughter.
Student: "Teacher!"
Me: "Okay, okay, just hurry!"
Student hurries to bathroom.
One of my favorite things about South Korea is the absence of poop-phobia. What students in any American high school would have been willing to tell their teacher that they had to poop? My co-teachers are also occasionally frank with me about their indigestion and poop issues. <3
If you want to read more about South Korea and poop, click here.
On a practical level, what this means for me is that when students ask to go to the bathroom during class, they usually don't have to go to the bathroom. They want to go to the bathroom to smoke. Which means: as much as I am opposed to the public school system having power over students' bodily needs, I can't just let them go without a fuss.
This conversation happened in one of the 2nd grade classes I have with Han Jin-An yesterday:
Student: "Teach-ah, toilet!"
Me: "Oh, you mean 'Can I go to the bathroom, please?'"
Student: "Yes, can I go bathroom please?"
Me: "Okay, you have 1 minute."
Student clutches at his stomach and makes groaning noises, then appeals to his classmates to help him explain the situation to me.
Different Student Who is Very Good at English: "Teacher, it's poop!"
Me: "Oh, really? Okay, 2 minutes."
Entire class erupts in laughter.
Student: "Teacher!"
Me: "Okay, okay, just hurry!"
Student hurries to bathroom.
One of my favorite things about South Korea is the absence of poop-phobia. What students in any American high school would have been willing to tell their teacher that they had to poop? My co-teachers are also occasionally frank with me about their indigestion and poop issues. <3
If you want to read more about South Korea and poop, click here.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
sometimes Park Mi-Ran terrifies me.
Sometimes, I overhear Park Mi-Ran speaking to the other teachers in Korean, and she makes the noise at 1:15-1:17 in this video (mixed in with her normal Korean speech). And everyone seems to think that it's normal.
I am guff, how did this happen.
Guff does not come naturally to me, it never has. I am not an outgoing person, I do not like to hang out with people simply for the sake of hanging out with people. I do not share my thoughts with people who are not close to me. And while it's not terribly unusual for me to go out of my way to help a stranger/acquaintance (I like to be useful), if you don't need any help or if I don't feel close to you, there's a good chance that my time and my energy are inaccessible to you.
All of that, no longer. I am guff in Korea, and I am definitely guff at school. I have been from the beginning, it just took me awhile to figure it out. It's a combination of factors, I think. Part of it is that as a native English speaker, as a foreigner, a lot of people want a piece of me. Normally, I wouldn't necessarily take kindly to this, but another part of it is that I have a huge gaping canyon of want in my torso that urges me to learn everything, to experience everything and everyone that I can. (This is strange to me. I will honestly admit that I censor my own experiences sometimes, I withdraw from people or situations that I find uncomfortable. I'm not censoring, here. I'm not withdrawing.)
And a third factor: my thrice-damned desire to help, to be useful. So many of the people (both teachers and students) at my school want to learn English, want to practice English. I can help them, they want me to help them. I can't say no. There are two exceptions: 1) Kim Yeon, the high-faluting teacher who tries to monopolize my time, and whose supercilious attitude towards both the students and the lower-income teachers I absolutely refuse to respect, and 2) more recently, Kang Eun-Shig, a militant Christian who will not cease in his efforts to convince me to attend his church or to teach me "Hallelujah, Jesus is with me" in Korean. He knows I'm not a Christian, he knows (or he should know, at least) that it's inappropriate to put religious pressure on me. And I don't think I'm being insensitive to cultural differences here. Other teachers have gently let me know that they are Christian (opening the door, I take it, if I want to join them). Park Mi-Ran, for example, told me once that she prayed for me on the first day she met me, the day I was so sick and panicky. I don't mind these gentle hints from teachers who are otherwise very much my friends. In a way, it's actually kind of sweet. But everyone knows now that I am not religious, I have gently let them know that too. One of my good teacher-friends is KoHo, who is Buddhist in a flexible sense. I attend meditation club with him every Thursday, which in turn gives me a slight association with Buddhism. Most of the teachers accept this and don't bother me about it. But Kang Eun-Shig is out of line, and I don't know how to fix the situation.
Anyway, that is not what I meant to write about. The point is that except for Kim Yeon and Kang Eun-Shig, I make myself purposely friendly and effusive with anyone who approaches me with a question or a desire to speak English with me for a few minutes. It never matters if I am busy, or behind schedule on preparing for classes, or if there is something I would rather be doing (like Tweeting, listening to Bad Romance on repeat, etc). They are asking for help; I will give it to them. Especially especially especially my students, I love it when the eager students come in to the teachers' office to interrupt me, sometimes to practice whatever it is I taught them in class that week, sometimes to talk about Michael Jackson or Prison Break (@bird_esque they love Prison Break here, too). Sometimes to stare over my shoulder at my computer screen and comment on whatever it is that I am doing at the moment (which is why, friends, I never go on the fb at work).
Yesterday, one of the most eager students (oh so eager) called Kim Yeon seon-saeng-nim (seon-saeng-nim = "teacher," except more honorific, more like "professor") a "New Yorker" because of all the makeup she puts on, making her skin look very, very pale. Personally, I prefer to think of her as a New Yorker for entirely different reasons (@bird_esque).
In conclusion:
눈 = nun ("noon") = eye
빛 = bit ("beat," with force on the "t") = light
Eye color in Korean = 눈빛 = eye light, the light from one's eyes.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Seoul Lantern Festival 2009
This isn't even all of the pictures.
Walk 400 meters, turn right when you see a huge spiral pointing at the sky. No street names here.
Cheonggyecheon at night. <3
FAVORITE.
Anthropomorphic Chinese Zodiac animals, the Year of the Rabbit. (Does the noble pose of this rabbit remind anyone else of Redwall?)
Ssireum (Korean wrestling).
RAWR.
Mythic animals guarding the entrance to the lantern palace.
@twcwar I made sure to include "The Little Penguin" sign, in case you couldn't tell what it was.
It's the solar system, if you can't tell. And a rocket labeled "Korea" being shot into space.
Heartz.Saturday, 14 November 2009
pickled radish, pickled
jellyfish, I mean, same goddamn difference.
LOOK AT THIS MAN. ISN'T HE MAGNIFICENT. (I'm a creeper, duh.)
BUKHANSAN. The beast of Seoul.
Teacher's tea time topic: are you an adventurous person? I'm really not trying to stack my own ego, but I was well and truly flabbergasted by my co-teachers' collective response to this topic. I was the only one willing to try most things. And they were appalled to learn that I had, in fact, already swum in a lake at night, and more than once, too.
Sweet potato noodles, sesame. I eat sesames in almost everything now.
Big-ass maple leaves carpet the streets. <3
If those aren't rainbow mosaic sculptures of poo, then I haven't a goddamned idea what they are.
LOOK AT THIS MAN. ISN'T HE MAGNIFICENT. (I'm a creeper, duh.)
BUKHANSAN. The beast of Seoul.
Teacher's tea time topic: are you an adventurous person? I'm really not trying to stack my own ego, but I was well and truly flabbergasted by my co-teachers' collective response to this topic. I was the only one willing to try most things. And they were appalled to learn that I had, in fact, already swum in a lake at night, and more than once, too.
Sweet potato noodles, sesame. I eat sesames in almost everything now.
Big-ass maple leaves carpet the streets. <3If those aren't rainbow mosaic sculptures of poo, then I haven't a goddamned idea what they are.Thursday, 12 November 2009
I used to say I'd never teach,
and I meant it, too. But here I fucking am.
I've also said (a number of times, and recently too) that I didn't think I'd ever be able to stomach octopus. But I went for seafood ddukbogi with Shin Sung-Min today, and damned if I didn't let my manners (plus a bit of curiosity) get the best of me again. It wasn't as chewy or slimy as imagined; rather, it was a little crunchy - like a slightly steamed carrot. And the flavor was pretty bland. All in all, not as bad as I had thought. But octopus of the fresh variety still makes me want to vomit, so that's off the menu. For now.
Also, ate shellfish and cuttlefish for the first time. How many more "first times" do I have left? (With seafood, I mean.)
Also, drank yuja tea. Yuja is a fruit which looks and tastes quite similar to lemon, except it is sweet, not sour. Koreans love it, it seems, when the weather turns cold. And all the vitamin C can't hurt in warding off the swine flu.
I've also said (a number of times, and recently too) that I didn't think I'd ever be able to stomach octopus. But I went for seafood ddukbogi with Shin Sung-Min today, and damned if I didn't let my manners (plus a bit of curiosity) get the best of me again. It wasn't as chewy or slimy as imagined; rather, it was a little crunchy - like a slightly steamed carrot. And the flavor was pretty bland. All in all, not as bad as I had thought. But octopus of the fresh variety still makes me want to vomit, so that's off the menu. For now.
Also, ate shellfish and cuttlefish for the first time. How many more "first times" do I have left? (With seafood, I mean.)
Also, drank yuja tea. Yuja is a fruit which looks and tastes quite similar to lemon, except it is sweet, not sour. Koreans love it, it seems, when the weather turns cold. And all the vitamin C can't hurt in warding off the swine flu.
Sunday, 8 November 2009
here is an apple. let's share it.
I have no energy lately. Is it the cold weather? Is it stress over teaching? My co-teachers tell me they're always tired these days too; maybe it's a combination of my body fighting against the flu season, and the fact that I'm in the middle of a long stretch of teaching with no breaks (somehow, a weekend never seems like a long enough period of time to refresh myself, to get my energy back). Part of me really wishes the swine flu would get serious enough at my school for it to close. Just so I could have a break. But it's looking like the worst is over; the number of absences dwindles each day.
I want to walk into each class with lots of energy; I know that the class will be more interesting to the students if I am excited about the topic. Sometimes, that excitement comes naturally; other times, I can summon it up. But these days (by which I mean, the past week-and-a-half or so), I can't find it. I wonder if it shows through to the students. I wonder if it means I was silly to ever think I was capable of teaching.
I want to walk into each class with lots of energy; I know that the class will be more interesting to the students if I am excited about the topic. Sometimes, that excitement comes naturally; other times, I can summon it up. But these days (by which I mean, the past week-and-a-half or so), I can't find it. I wonder if it shows through to the students. I wonder if it means I was silly to ever think I was capable of teaching.
Saturday, 7 November 2009
super junior, rly?
Thursday, 5 November 2009
I am not the mean teacher.
I don't have it in me. Most of the time, I'm a complete pushover. I smile and laugh with my students, I give out plenty of rewards but virtually no punishments, I give the students who refused to wake up on test day second chances to get their points.
I occasionally raise my voice a little with the rowdy classes to tell them to "be quiet, please." But it's really, really rare for me to scold a student. Generally, I just refuse to give them their reward if they do something I don't like (e.g. copy answers from other students, sleep during class, speak in Korean when I've asked them do an activity in English, etc). Scolding has maybe happened about 10 times, when they do something I refuse to tolerate (belittling their classmates, displaying physical violence towards their classmates). When students push each other around, I yell. ("Stop that, sit down, no fighting," etc.) When students call each other names (which tend to be along the lines of "stupid"), I snap at the offending student ("Don't say that") and tell him (it's always "him") not to lie.
My scolding is nearly always met with shock and meek&muttered "sorry's" from the offending students. I think this reaction is caused by a variety of things: 1. the novelty of my presence makes the students perpetually want to be on my good side; 2. the abrupt change from my usual friendly behavior helps to convince students that they've done something wrong; and 3. my physical largeness and my loud voice (is it strange to call my own voice "booming"? but sometimes, it really does boom to my ears, it surprises me with how loud it is) are enough to intimidate even the rowdier boys.
But all of that aside, today I got really raw on a student for the first time. I was in one of the 2nd grade classes I have with Han Jin-An, the older male teacher who doesn't speak English. The classes I have with him are always a little harder to control. We were in the middle of a speaking test. Two boys were up at the front of the classroom doing a skit, and one of the students who had already done his skit started calling one of the performing students "gay, really gay."
I was immediately furious. I put on my booming voice and interrupted the skit and told the boy that if he ever said that again I would give him a zero for the test he'd just aced. And it worked, because the student who was name-calling is maybe the smartest kid in that class. He always volunteers, always participates, always approaches me to talk outside of class. Having points taken away from his grade is (in his eyes) maybe the worst realistic punishment I could give him. He was silent for the rest of the class.
I have no idea what to think of my response. After all, the impression I want to give is not that "gay" is an unspeakable word, but that I won't tolerate it as an insult. And I really hope that I didn't completely shut down this kid. I want him to participate; he's always been really enthusiastic about English, and I want that to continue.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is: my response was knee-jerk. I didn't think it through beforehand whatsoever, and it was a lot harsher than my previous responses to name-calling (other names, not "gay"). Be my bouncing board, will you? What should I have done?
I occasionally raise my voice a little with the rowdy classes to tell them to "be quiet, please." But it's really, really rare for me to scold a student. Generally, I just refuse to give them their reward if they do something I don't like (e.g. copy answers from other students, sleep during class, speak in Korean when I've asked them do an activity in English, etc). Scolding has maybe happened about 10 times, when they do something I refuse to tolerate (belittling their classmates, displaying physical violence towards their classmates). When students push each other around, I yell. ("Stop that, sit down, no fighting," etc.) When students call each other names (which tend to be along the lines of "stupid"), I snap at the offending student ("Don't say that") and tell him (it's always "him") not to lie.
My scolding is nearly always met with shock and meek&muttered "sorry's" from the offending students. I think this reaction is caused by a variety of things: 1. the novelty of my presence makes the students perpetually want to be on my good side; 2. the abrupt change from my usual friendly behavior helps to convince students that they've done something wrong; and 3. my physical largeness and my loud voice (is it strange to call my own voice "booming"? but sometimes, it really does boom to my ears, it surprises me with how loud it is) are enough to intimidate even the rowdier boys.
But all of that aside, today I got really raw on a student for the first time. I was in one of the 2nd grade classes I have with Han Jin-An, the older male teacher who doesn't speak English. The classes I have with him are always a little harder to control. We were in the middle of a speaking test. Two boys were up at the front of the classroom doing a skit, and one of the students who had already done his skit started calling one of the performing students "gay, really gay."
I was immediately furious. I put on my booming voice and interrupted the skit and told the boy that if he ever said that again I would give him a zero for the test he'd just aced. And it worked, because the student who was name-calling is maybe the smartest kid in that class. He always volunteers, always participates, always approaches me to talk outside of class. Having points taken away from his grade is (in his eyes) maybe the worst realistic punishment I could give him. He was silent for the rest of the class.
I have no idea what to think of my response. After all, the impression I want to give is not that "gay" is an unspeakable word, but that I won't tolerate it as an insult. And I really hope that I didn't completely shut down this kid. I want him to participate; he's always been really enthusiastic about English, and I want that to continue.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is: my response was knee-jerk. I didn't think it through beforehand whatsoever, and it was a lot harsher than my previous responses to name-calling (other names, not "gay"). Be my bouncing board, will you? What should I have done?
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
ㄱ, ㄲ, ㅋ
ㄱ=g/k
ㄲ=gg/kk
ㅋ=k (hard k, unequivocal k)
In a pinch, I can't hear the difference. But there must be a difference, there must.
ㄲ=gg/kk
ㅋ=k (hard k, unequivocal k)
In a pinch, I can't hear the difference. But there must be a difference, there must.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
단풍, the fall colors
경복궁 (Gyeong-bok Gung = Gyeong-bok Palace):
On the roof, tiny sculptures of the Chinese Zodiac animals.
Partially obscured, the "Blue House," where the President lives. The rooftop is blue, like traditional Korean roofs.
Guardian duck statue at the entrance.
Gay-pride 한복 (hanbok).
One of the first Korean woodcuts, made by Buddhist monks and used to distribute scriptures. (@bird_esque @warmandbarky)
On the roof, tiny sculptures of the Chinese Zodiac animals.
Partially obscured, the "Blue House," where the President lives. The rooftop is blue, like traditional Korean roofs.
Guardian duck statue at the entrance.
Gay-pride 한복 (hanbok).
One of the first Korean woodcuts, made by Buddhist monks and used to distribute scriptures. (@bird_esque @warmandbarky)
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