I really did not experience culture shock when I left Texas for Korea. I had been here once before (briefly in 1994) and had some idea what to expect. Furthermore, I was walking into a situation where my job and housing were already determined. As long as I could be moderately successful as a teacher at LIKE, I anticipated no problems. Still, it was a different world and adjustments would have to be made. By the same token, the people with whom I dealt also had to adjust. In other words, culture shock is a two-way street.
The Yongsan school had seven native teachers and about that many assistants. How they addressed their problems, I do not know. From a discussion I had with one of them, I think they mostly kept their mouths shut. It is the Korean way. The director, Kim Hee-Man, was an indefatigable worker, and that’s what it takes to run a hagwon. He had degrees from two American universities and had been raised (with his brothers Hee-Dal and Hee-Duk) in an English-teaching atmosphere. I recall the time he informed me that one of my students’ parents had issued a complaint. The specifics are long since forgotten, and I can tell you I did not let it bother me. The next day, I dropped a nicely worded letter on his desk. It contained a series of complaints of my own. The ones I remember are as follows.
The school’s stated purpose was to teach English to our students. Why, then, were all of the notices on the front door and walls written in Korean? In addition, the vast majority of verbal communication between native teachers, staff members and students was in Korean. I knew that the students and their parents were more likely to understand messages conveyed in their own language. Still, why not mix in some of the target language—English?
I had read of some “total immersion” schools where literally everything was written and spoken in English. It takes a huge effort to implement such a scheme, and we employed what might be called a realistic approach in which Korean was tolerated. Too much, in my opinion. There were times when, in the middle of a class, Hee-Man would come in and speak to the students. Except for a brief apology to me in English, it was done entirely in Korean. I asked him, in my letter, whether he realized the effect of doing that. The message, although surely not intended, was “We are not serious about using English around here. We are just going through the motions.” I told him, respectfully, that by doing so we were defeating our own purpose.
The second point in my letter pertained to the students’ comportment in the hallways before and after classes. It was a complete madhouse with kids running here and there, yelling and hooting, and engaging in youthful hijinks. I knew that little could be done about this. Good luck telling high-energy children to be anything other than what they are! But it was so loud and intense that some of the younger and quieter ones must have felt intimidated.
During the 10-minute break between classes, I sometimes wandered out into that maelstrom of Korean kids. I soon came to recognize the face of one boy in particular. Jong-In, whose age then I would estimate at 12, had a very calm demeanor. Even from a distance of 20 meters, with chaos swirling around us, he would wait to catch my eye. He wanted that look of recognition, and I was happy to give it. I would smile and wave to him before we headed in different directions.
What’s interesting is that Jong-In was not in any of my classes until the final couple of weeks I taught at LIKE. As fortune would have it, a new class began and he was one of my students. I was not the least bit surprised to find that he was a teacher’s dream. Jong-In was advanced in terms of reading, speaking and comprehending English. He was also attentive, eager to learn and respectful.
He knew that I was leaving for Seoul at the end of January 2009. On my last day, he gave me a carefully wrapped package. I opened it to find a pair of socks and a hand-made, multi-colored goodbye card. In it, Jong-In had written somewhat ungrammatically, “You are a best teacher!” He also pointed out a drawing he had made of some crying eyes. Teachers are not supposed to play favorites, but honesty forces me to admit that Jong-In was among my favorite students. His parents must have raised him well.
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