Friday, September 24, 2010

A Tale of Two Koreas: 추석 in the Land of the Morning Calm

Every 15th day of the 8th month of the Lunar Calendar, Koreans celebrate 추석 (Chuseok), the festival of good harvest. It is tradition to visit one's ancestral hometowns and eat traditional foods such as 송편 (songypeon, a type of rice cake). And thanks to the Korean government, we also had a week long break from school.   The Chuseok season is very reminiscent of Thanksgiving season back home- the travel industry booms as millions of people flock to their ancestral hometowns and department store sales spike as spam gift sets  fly off the shelves (for some reason Koreans love this American mystery meat). Yet modern commercialism aside, Chuseok is anchored in thousands of years of tradition and lore. Folk games and tomb offerings are commonplace throughout both North and South Korea. 
This dichotomy between the modern, commercialized Korea and its ancient, traditional past was fascinating for me. Maybe I have ignorantly placed my own perceptions of the Korea I wished to see, ignoring the fact that the tides of modernization have been in effect for over twenty years. In a way, I was hoping for a static Korea. Part of me would have  been really happy with a Chuseok celebration that was more reminicent of 1910 than to 2010.  While I did experience traditional foods, we didn't visit any ancestor's graves due to weather. And while I did get to meet the extended family,  the majority of the time was spent transfixed on the latest episode of World's Dumbest Criminals.   As Danny Bonaduce highlighted some of America's best and brightest, I chowed down on delicious Korean cuisine that probably symbolizes something important.  


My host sister in traditional hanbok, while throwing up the  predictable "peace sign"
South Korea has experienced tremendous economic growth in the past 20 years. Ever since the 1988 Summer Olympics debuted "the Land of Morning Calm" to the world, the country has taken off.  Companies like LG, Samsung, and Kia have breathed new life into a country that experienced dictatorship a mere two decades earlier. There is a stark contrast between people over the age of 40 and under the age of 40. In a similar manner to the Greatest Generation that grew up in the Depression and their Baby boomer children who came of age in the prosperous 1950's, those that have lived through the "old Korea" seem to operate by a different set of standards.
One of the highlights of the Chuseok festivities was a hike I went on with my host dad and uncle. My host dad explained his humble upbringing in the 1980's, which was punctuated by military dictatorship, and at times, hunger. He illustrated how when times were rough,  him and his brothers would scour the local mountains for berries and roots from mother nature's pantry. But it was a simpler, more innocent time he described. He said that he worries that the complexities of modern life will jade his daughter.   My host dad was describing life in the old Korea, a Korea before neon lights, bullet trains, and McDonalds. It was a collective experience shared by multiple generation  that ended in the not too distant past. 


My host dad and his brother looking at their hometown from the top of the mountain. As they spoke in Korean, I imagined them reminiscing on a bye gone era of simpler times. I desperately wished I could understand what they were saying to catch a glimpse into the old Korea. They were probably just talking about their mortgages. 



Yet for my generation, and most definitely the generation of my host sister, my host dad might as well have grown up in a different country.  As a country with a 5000 year collective history and culture, South Korea's adoption and interaction with Western trends has perplexed me.  Being an American, this idea of "shared culture" was difficult to grasp. In terms of age, the United States is in its infancy in comparison to many nations around the world.  The US is a nation of immigrants, that is neither united by language, collective, history, or shared culture. In South Korea, the collective culture and history is  palpable in just about every aspect of daily life. From the specific greetings one gives to their elders, to the refined dining and drinking culture, it is obvious that social customs have been present here for thousands of years.
 Does my generation forget their heritage in lieu of adopting American trends? Or is there a complex system of negotiation between traditional cultural values in the face of embracing Western cultural influence? Sometimes, while watching television, I can't help but wonder if today's latest Korean pop stars still adhere to the age old customs of their ancestors:


Although South Korean hip hop group "One Way" looks like they just stepped out of  MTV's TRL,  I constantly wonder if these guys still insa their grandparents and wear traditional clothing during Chuseok.

In sum, my Chuseok holiday was rich in culture, just not the culture in which I hoped to partake. I didn't play any traditional games, nor did I wear customary garb. But I did learn a great amount about the South Korean experience in the 21st century: The country is not static, as much as I wished it to be. It's okay to simultaneously mention folk songs and K pop in the same breath. As South Korea enters into a globalized relationship with the rest of the world, its culture will adapt as well. It's an exciting time to be in the "Land of the Morning Calm."
Until next time...


Thursday, September 9, 2010

The Monkey House

Hangovers, dirty facilities, partial nudity, and debauchery are all accurate indicators that I have arrived at work.
And no, I'm not working on the latest National Lampoon movie. I'm a conversational English teacher at Geumseong high school, the most dynamic educational institution I have ever encountered.
As one of the most important parts of my grant year, teaching takes up a majority of my time. I spend approximately 12 hours a week teaching conversational English to high school boys, while simultaneously serving as an "English cheerleader."  My role is simple: To get the kids excited to speak English. While the mere act of teaching places one in a position of great power and responsibility, being a foreign English teacher only complicates the issue. I am the ultimate authority on not only the English language, but Western culture in general, whether I like it or not. I am constantly approached with obscure grammar questions such as split infinitives ("to go boldly" opposed to "to boldly go") as well as more, well, subjective questions such as "Teacher. In Korea, women blah blah blah a lot. In America, women blah blah blah a lot or shhhhhhh?"
Needless to say, my work day is filled with lots of testosterone. With 800 teenage boys bouncing off the walls, I have my hands full. Rough housing, teasing, and sports in the hallways are all common sights around school. And I love it. But there are a few things that make this high school a little different from those back home...
When it came to classroom management, my philosophy was simple: The best lesson plan will ultimately fail without classroom management.  It is absolutely essential, and it is pertinent to establish the tone of the class early on. Not too long ago, I was an unprepared, ADD riddled high school boy who was struggling with the ebbs and flows of adolescence. I hid my cellphone in the elastic waistbands of my shorts, and became a master at the art of passing notes in class. I know the tricks of the trade. This should be easy, right?
So, I laid down a few simple rules for my students to follow. I call them the 5 P's:
Be prepared: Bring a writing utensil, paper, and your book to class everyday
Be polite: Keep your hands to yourself and respect your fellow students
Be productive: Work hard
Be prompt: show up to class on time
Be positive: Smile :)
By setting some strict rules early, I hoped to prevent some of the predictable problems I thought I would face, such as unprepared students and rough housing. Any infraction of the rules will result in a swift punishment, I told them. My weapon of choice wall sits (squats against the wall) prove effective. For the first few weeks, I handed them out liberally.
I also invented George, my pet soccer ball.  I explained to the kids that they always need to watch George, because I will toss it at them and they need to catch it. When they have George, they can talk and answer the question.  If they are sleeping in class, I will hit them with it. If they are talking I will hit them with it. The kids love it when I stare down a talking kid then bop him on the head with George.
Yet a few days ago, I was thrown a curveball. A few minutes after one of my classes started, two students barged into class chasing each other. Yet there was something very distinct about these two tardy teenagers.
Neither one of them were wearing pants.
And one of them wasn't wearing a shirt either.
So just as I'm about to launch into my lesson, I was interrupted by two lanky, exposed adolescents scrambling to their seats.
Now usually, my policy for late students is clear cut. If you are 2 minutes late, you will do a wall sit for 2 minutes. If you are 3 minutes late, you will do a wall sit for 3 minutes. Yet I could not bring myself to make these two unclad kids do wall sits in the buff. It was just too voyeuristic, and well, cruel.
After they reclothed themselves and the punishments were issued, I continued on with my lesson. I tossed George to one student and instructed him to come to the front of the board for an activity.
He gets out of his chair, and his Scooby Doo boxers caught my eye. It's not because he was sagging his pants, it because he wasn't wearing any....
"woah there, buckaroo!!" I said
"This is a no shirts, no shoes, no service establishment! Please put your pa....Better yet, can the whole class please stand up? We are doing a pencil, notebook, English book AND pants check. Yes kiddies, I understand the freedom of running around in your knickers, but we need to be FULLY ROBED for my class! No exceptions!"
Turned out he wasn't the only scantily stripped student-In total, I have had at least 5 kids this week come to class in their partial birthday suits.*
And I think I am adding a new rule to my class: Bring pants.
I immediately return to the teachers office to inquire about this peculiarity, only to find my coteacher passed out on his desk.
"Mr. Na, I have a question."
"Oh, hi Joshie. I am sick today. Last night I drink drink drink. Morning I am hungover. Today I sleep."
Great. Minutes earlier I had au natural students, and now I have a passed out co teacher.** Welcome to the Twilight Zone!
Then, if things couldn't get any more bizarre, an army of students armed with brooms and mops barge into the teachers office. With the efficiency of a NASCAR pit crew, every student assumed their role. Within 10 minutes, every trashcan was emptied and every inch of floor was scrubbed. As soon as they appeared, they vanished. And miraculously, they were all fully clothed as well.
Now the craziest part of this whole thing is that time and again, Korean schools outperform American schools in international academic rankings.  According to the Program for International Student Assessment (PISA) South Korea ranks 3rd in reading, 1st in math, and 10th in science among the top 20 developed nations in the world. The United States, on the other hand, did not crack the top 10 in any subject. Maybe this is because yearly, South Korean students are in school for a month and a half longer than American students, or maybe its because they average more than 10 hours a day at school. Or maybe its because they don't wear any pants in class.
Jokes aside, some serious studying goes down at Guemseong. Students don't leave school until at least 9pm, and sometimes not until 11pm. They study 9 subjects a semester and attend supplementary private  hagwons, or academies that specialize in various subjects. My tenth graders are doing trigonometry. My 11th graders are doing organic chemistry. And from what I can tell, most of this is probably done in the buff.
When I'm not dealing with day to day debauchery, I enjoy spending time at my on campus Korean religious shrine.  Apparently, the founder of Guemseong High school purchased the land from a Buddhist temple. The result: A 1000 year old Korean religious and historical monument in the middle of the campus of an all boys high school.  Not surprisingly, the temple wants nothing to do with the school. Neither insitution interacts with the other, and the students act as if seeing a group of buddhist monks praying next to their soccer game is just a normal occurance. Irony aside, the temple itself is remarkable:

This exists mere yards away from the debauchery known as Guemseong High School. The school's soccer field is on the other side of this structure


Sometimes after a long testosterone filled day, I retreat to this calming sanctuary

***
After a long, hard day at the office, nothing is more relaxing than returning home to my wonderful host family. My host dad is young, energetic, and speaks great English.  While her English is lacking, My host mom makes up for it through her genuine sweetness and care for me. And then there's my host sister, Heo.....

My lovely host family. But don't let those innocent eyes fool you, my host sister is capable of complete destruction. Heo, is it really necessary to  pour milk on my laptop? The glass was next to my computer, not on top of it!!

I usually get an hour to decompress and switch gears before the rest of the fam gets home, which is really nice. I consciously need to switch gears out of my school persona.  At school, I am "Josh Teacher," a young, and enthusiastic  cultural and linguistic diplomat. Josh Teacher is phased by nothing: Toilet humor, rowdy students and partial nudity are all within a days work. Yet afterhours, I morph into "Uncle Joshie," a shell of his former self.  This personality code switching has proved to be an unseen challenge in my daily life.
Once my 3 year old little sister gets home, the rules of the game change. She comandeers the TV, and "vroom riders" is fixed for the duration of the evening. Any attempt to change the channel will result in a terrible temper tantrum. Toys are strewn across the floor, and Uncle Joshy becomes her personal plaything.
Now I'll be the first to admit that  I have no first hand experiences with siblings, since I am an only child. One moment I want to annihilate her (like that one time she made me late for my ESPN fantasy football draft and the auto-pick drafted a kicker in the second round) and the next moment she just melts my heart:

Heo, you very well may be the cutest thing ever, but I won't forgive you if I lose this Fantasy Football pool this season.   

Sometimes, if I'm really lucky, Heo's friends will come over to play. Usually, about two or three Korean women and their young children come to our house one  evening a week. The moms sit around the table while the youngsters run amok.

If one three year old isn't enough, this troupe of tiny tikes pack three times the amount of fun!

As the resident native English speaker,  Uncle Joshie frequently makes guest appearances to read tall tales to the tots:

,
Uncle Joshie and the little ones reading "Thomas the Choo Choo."


Mere hours earlier, Josh Teacher was laying down the law- his class was gang shouting English sentences back at him while other students were doing wall sits in an elaborate play of masculine one-upsmanship. The testosterone was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Yet within 90 minutes, no vestige of Josh Teacher remained. Instead, this once proud man finds himself crawling on the floor while 3 year old children use him as their personal jungle gym. Instead of dissecting the nuances between prepositional phrases, Uncle Joshie is teaching the words to "Hush little baby." 
One day, I might just snap. The next time my class acts up, I won't make them do wall sits. Oh no, I've devised a much more conniving plan. We will listen to "John Jacob Jingle Hemmer Schmidt" on repeat. For 50 minutes straight. And the next time my little sister walks into the living room without pants on, she's giving me wall sits.
Until next time....


* It turns out that the gym teacher had been holding the students late, thus shortening their time to change in between periods.
**While drinking is a prominent component of the Korean work environment, general intoxication to the point of affecting one's job performance is unacceptable. For Americans, this idea  is hard to grasp-The US is extremely conservative when it comes to alcohol's place in society, whereas the time and space alcohol can be consumed is much more fluid (no pun intended) in Korea.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Two weeks in, and I already need a leg up....

After two weeks in Naju, I am settling into a routine. The thrill of taking the bus to and from work is subsiding, as is the initial rush I feel when I enter a store and use my limited Korean while making a purchase. Although the novelty is wearing off, I've realized that the more time I spend in South Korea, the more dynamic the country becomes. Not only am I learning about the socio-cultural nuances of South Korean society, I am gaining valuable intra-personal knowledge about myself. The biggest lesson thus far: I really need to gain better control over my legs. Life will be much easier once I do. 

Example #1: 
My family, along with many families in South Korea, eat all their meals on a mini table while sitting on the floor. Most activities, such as sleeping, eating, and drinking are done on the floor. The preferred method of sitting is "indian style."  This is problematic for many reasons.  The biggest problem is that I simply cannot sit "indian style" to save my life. I couldn't do it in kindergarten when I first learned, and I sure can't do it now. Yet day after day of pulling, twisting, and forcing my legs into place, I was able to achieve relative comfort while eating meals. Although it strains my hips and knees, I was determined to learn how to do it if it was the last thing I did. 
A few days ago, I was  folding my laundry when I noticed that every single pair of my socks was stained. "Thats strange," I thought. After searing my leg with steaming hot soup at dinner one day, I quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together:
 Somewhere in the process of taking that 순두부찌개 (tofu soup) or 잡채 (noodles) from my bowl to my mouth, something went terribly wrong.  While I was awkwardly and uncomfortably leaning over my bowl, chopsticks in hand, all the food I intended to eat didn't quite make it to my mouth. Instead, it slipped out of my chopsticks  and fell into my lap.  The result: my white tube socks are speckled with an array of colors, from kimchi red to kalbi brown.  I  feel like that little airplane spoon my host mom uses for my 3 year old sister has crashed and burned into my lap, leaving the blood and guts of its edible passengers stained into the fabric of my socks.   And the evidence of my poor table manners are on display every time I wear shorts. My favorite activity of all, eating, is now a daily challenge, and my toddler sister shows me up every time. Lesson learned: Not only can't I sit appropriately and comfortably at meal times, I also fail at the very act of feeding myself.

Example #2:
 One of the best things about routines is consistency. The best part of this new consistency in my life is my predictable, reliable bowel movements.  "Why is he telling me this?! I don't care about his bodily functions?!" you may ask. There is a reason, and the reason is simple. Like eating, doing your business in South Korea is no easy feat, especially when you are faced with one of these:


Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to the squat toilet, which has struck fear into the hearts (and bowels) of Western travelers for over a century. Some call it a "squatty potty," others the "pop and squat." But at the end of the day, every foreigner in South Korea will be faced with this most terrifying of personal waste disposal systems at some point.  
Now this is where my bowel schedule comes into play: Since my home stay has western toilets, the only time I am charged with using the "squat toilet" is at school. Yet there is one western toilet on the other side of campus. Since I know that I will be moving bowels around 11am everyday, I can rush to my western ally, "the john" between 2nd and 3rd period. So I take the appropriate measures to ensure that I can rendezvous. If not, I will be caught in unfriendly territory with Mr. squat toilet, and the outcome could be fatal. 
I cannot confidently say I have mastered the squatty potty either. Again, I will not illustrate how I came to that conclusion, but lets just say it was, well, dirty. One thing I did learn is that your legs are very important in the process. It's called a squat toilet for good reason. And as I've already established, I am not very good at manipulating my legs. Lesson learned: I also fail at going to the bathroom, literally. 

Example #3:
 
In an effort to create rapport with my host dad, I go with him to his bi weekly Jokgu games, which is the Korean version of Sepaktakraw. Simply put, it is a combination of soccer and volleyball.  The sport utilizes the strategy of volleyball, complete with the serve, bump and spike, and the footwork (read: foot) of soccer. One's ability to play hackey sack or soccer would be a good indicator to their success on the Jokgu court. Did I mention the fact that I am horrible at hackey sack, and even worse at soccer? Why are you so bad, you may ask? Well, the answer is easy:
It involves the use of your legs. 
Created by the South Korean army in the 1970's, Jokgu is a popular sport among men in their late 20's and 30's. "A man's sport," as my dad calls it, Jokgu seems to be a rite of passage for Korean men upon leaving their military conscription. And like many men his age, my host dad is obsessed. Him and his 30 something friends leave their wives and young children  twice a week to play the most masculine of sports and bicycle kick their way to bliss.   And me, well, I just make a fool of myself. While they all have special Jokgu shoes, (which are modified soccer cleats) I am rocking my sales rack Nike cross trainers.   While they are all wearing coordinated jerseys and soccer shorts as part of their Jokgu club uniform, I am wearing my trusty Pitzer College t-shirt and basketball shorts.  While they are juggling the ball effortlessly, I am bumbling around like a physical therapy patient.  Needless to say, I'm quite the spectacle. 
Yet my host dad is insistent that I go with him every Wednesday and Friday.  Although I automatically add a handicap to my team, (and have ensured the loss of my team every time I have played), my host dad and his friends cheer me on and support me while I flail my uncoordinated legs around in frustration.
Lesson learned: I fail at foot sports. And I vastly over judged my athletic ability.  
 

 I would like to wrap up this post with a summary of a typical wednesday and friday night:

From 7:30 to 9:30pm, I play Jokgu with my host dad. As per tradition, we go to the same restaurant every wednesday and friday for our weekly post exercise feast.  Once we finish our Jokgu game,  I pick up my pride off the gym floor and drag  myself next door to our trusted Korean restaurant. I then force my already sore legs into the "indian style" position while trying to concentrate on using my chopsticks. I then inevitably spill something on myself.  Last week it was 김치찌개 (kimchi soup), and I think this week it was 비빔밥 (bibimbap).  Around 9:50pm, nature calls. I then head to our trusty Korean restaurant's squatty potty, where I may or may not succeed. (Interpret that as you will)

After the first two weeks at their placement, many of my friends are negotiating questions of classroom pedagogy, or struggling with their roles as cultural ambassadors and the implications that entails. What have I learned  during my first 2 weeks? I need to get my legs up to speed pronto, or its going to be a long year.
Until next time.......