I am writing this nearly two years after the fact, so I have forgotten some of the details. I wish I could have forgotten all of them, for reasons that will soon be clear. First, permit me to set the scene. The Chilgok LIKE School where I began teaching in mid-November 2007 was poorly run, and that is putting it kindly. The director, Jae-Young Noh, was in over his head. He had no vision for how to make the school a success, and even if he did, Jae-Young lacked the ability to implement it. The place was dirty (I swept and mopped it numerous times, and half the classrooms were empty or full of junk), and the students used the computer room only for playing games. The ostensible purpose of the hagwon was the inculcation of English speaking, comprehension, reading and writing on the part of our students. I had serious doubts, however, about how much real learning was going on there. I was quite perplexed that Dr. In-Hwan Kim, the founder and main man at the LIKE headquarters in Daegu, allowed such a state of affairs. Even if the other half-dozen schools were the epitome of efficient English education, my view was that a very bad one had the potential to damage the LIKE brand. Neither he nor his wife ever paid a visit to Chilgok, although I informed them of what I considered serious issues.
I had been on the job just two days when my biggest problem was manifested. Jae- Young walked up to me, chuckled and said words to the effect of “get ready for some troublemakers.” I appreciated the heads-up, but I wasn’t worried. I had been through too much in my life to think I couldn’t handle some ornery Korean kids. As it turned out, he was true to his word. When the bell rang, seven or eight middle-school boys came roaring down the hall and into my classroom. They were loud. They were rude. They were disrespectful. They cared nothing about learning English and only about making each other laugh.
During the 14 months I taught at LIKE schools (Chilgok for five months and Yongsan for nine), I was forced to raise my voice too many times to count. It’s not that I wanted to assert myself and be the “meanie.” On the contrary, I wish that every class had been calm, happy and most of all successful in gaining a better grasp of the international language. A certain percentage of students and classes compelled me to show that I was in charge. No other class was like this one, though.
I tried. Even after a bad class, I was willing to wipe the slate clean and keep things on a friendly basis with these boys. Heaven help any girl who got stuck in there with them! I informed my Korean colleague, Hyun-Ju, and she said she had the very same problems with them. Things seemed to get worse as these kids fought me. I surely did not want it to become adversarial, but it did. One day, the proceedings simply ground to a halt. They would not cooperate in any way, and I had had enough. I walked out of the classroom and told Jae-Young and Hyun-Ju in no uncertain terms that something had to change. I don’t recall whether I ever said the Q word (“quit”) but the threat was clear.
In fact, something did happen behind the scenes although I was not sure what. I assume Dr. Kim or his wife was informed as well as the parents of these young men. A couple of days later, that class convened. The boys walked in quietly with their heads down. Jae-Young came in right behind them and spoke (in Korean) authoritatively—a first for him. He nodded to me and departed. I looked at these chastened students for a second and then quietly told them to open their books. They would read in turn according to my direction. What happened over the next 30 minutes was quite interesting. My tone of voice and manner were understated as I walked from one to another. They followed my words very carefully. This was a night-and-day difference.
I realized time would soon be up, so I slowly walked near the front of the room. The bell rang and all of the boys sprang from their desks and started running for the door. Ha! Little did they know, their lesson was not yet over. I positioned myself in front of the door and made a strongly worded speech. I stood there, telling them loudly and forcefully that I would not tolerate any further misbehavior. With a finger in their faces, I asked in a threatening way, “Do you understand?!?” I made it clear that we were going to have at least a semblance of education in my classroom—no ifs, ands or buts. I derived no pleasure from seeing my former tormentors brought down low. Perhaps two or three minutes passed with my back to the door and those boys wondering when they would be permitted to leave. Finally, I stood aside and they were gone.
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