Bopping Kidz

So we like to think that we lead a relatively austere existence here in Seoul.  We don't tend to accumulate possessions so much; those just take up space and hold you down, man.  We don't need a big TV or a flashy, expensive car to be happy, man.  Because we watch TV shows on our computer and have flashy, expensive bikes, man.  ...Man.

It turns out one of the things we have accumulated, though, is photos of adorable students.  Those kinda pile up, which makes it extremely difficult to keep this post pared down to fewer than a dillion photos.  So we're not really going to try.  Enjoy this onslaught of cuteness, intercut with some ramblings about the teaching culture in Korea.

Annalise's note reads: "Harry teacher I love you Thank you Stay happy forever Analise"  I had her add some punctuation, because teaching English is an Always Job.

This little guy was the bane of my existence for an entire year.  He's loud, disruptive, hyperactive, and occasionally extremely sweet and adorable.  Cute enough to overlook the disgusting snacks that he was always eating in class and the fact that his teeth are all black and rotting.  Anyway, yeah.  Sweet little guy.

So any of the names mentioned here, it should be pointed out, are not any of these students' real names (and thus, it's probably not any kind of violation of privacy or anything).  Unlike Japan, where I can't say I knew anyone outside of the "International" classrooms at Harumidai Kindergarten who used an English nickname, everyone in Korea seems to.  All of our Korean co-teachers, 95% of our students, adults unaffiliated with a school...when they interact with foreigners, every Jae Won and Dong Ha suddenly becomes Jimmy and David.

There's a few funny ones, of course.  Nothing like what I've heard Chinese students of English do, but we've got a couple of girls named Sunny, one Soul, one Shiny, and a Jelly.  Plus a lot of Solomons, for some reason.  Mostly they're all named Sally or Sam or Alice, though after Frozen came out suddenly they all wanted to change their names to Elsa.  Oh, yeah, they change their names.  Sometimes one of the student will walk into the classroom and attempt to explain with their kindergarten-level English: "Teacher, Ellen, no.  Hannah."  Most of the time I ignore what the kids tell me about their identities (such as "Teacher, me dinosaur"), but I try to take it in stride and encourage the other children to respect the kid's new name choice.  This does cause some adorable confusion in some of the kids who aren't that great at paying attention but are long on helpfulness ("Teacher," they look at me, perplexed, "Ellen, that's Ellen."  "I know that," I tell them, "but tell that to her.").

More fun with comics.  This one was written by Alex (age 15) and dedicated to his bestest friend ever, Daniel.

One of the secrets of the Early Childhood EFL game is that there are only four children's songs: "Frere Jacques," "Ten Little Indians," "Twinkle, Twinkle," and "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes."  All other children's songs are just setting different words to these four tunes.  This, though.  Seriously.  I refused to teach this song in my classroom on the grounds that it would actually make my students worse at English.  And this isn't the only one.

Christ.

I know you have to work with what they can already say, but...really?

Another successful Valentine's Day craft!  I taught my snarky middle schoolers how to be creative when utilizing stiflingly uncreative materials.

As a thank you from this same middle school class, they very kindly left me some pieces of their grody Korean pizza, which I promptly gave to someone else.

As far as teaching in Korea as opposed to Japan goes: in Japan, the educational system prized test results above all else.  Students study long hours at school at longer hours at cram school, often not getting home until 9:00 or later.  Yet as we've mentioned before, it's entirely possible within the Japanese school system to excel at English, get a perfect score on your national English exams, and become a fully accredited English teacher without being able to speak a single word in conversation.  The Japanese solution to this problem is to import unqualified native speakers (heyo!) to just kind of exist around their students and hope that their native pronunciation is more important than the idea that they have no idea how to teach.

In Korea, there is a similar culture of working students to death , many students working even longer hours than their Japanese peers.  Since the government forces after-school academies to close by 10 p.m., there is an abundance of illegal "study rooms" that teach illicit lessons past this curfew, sometimes until 3 or 4 a.m..

Something Korea's doing does seem to be working, however.  We've met far more adult Koreans who speak passable (or even excellent) English than we ever met in Japan, and there seems to be a much greater focus on speaking as a quantifiable skill here (they're big on making students of any age do speech contests).

"Teacher!  Hint!"

This kid didn't seem to have any idea what he was doing.  I think the rhythm is just in him.  Or the devil.

Getting some help with my Korean homework.  I find it's a good way to connect with young English learners to see that their teacher is struggling with another language, too. Plus I'm lazy and appreciate the help.

Always a party in Harry-teacher's class.  Never have so many wanted to share so much about something they know so little about.

And that's about it for the teaching life in Korea.  We'd come back and do it again, no question.  Unfortunately, as it turns out, our school is shutting down on the very day that we are to finish our contracts!  Long, poorly-understood story short: while it's billed itself publicly as a "Continuing Education Center," our school has actually been run as an after-school academy.  That is, according to the law, CEC is supposed to be teaching adults cooking classes or whatever, and for the 10-plus years of its history it's just been getting away with educating children in English instead.  The nerve of some people.

But before we end, let us encapsulate in twenty seconds the experience of one year of teaching two gross little seven-year-old boys:

Back on the Road

When last we left Our Heroes, they had mothballed their bikes and settled in for a year of teaching English and rockin' the sedentary expat lifestyle.  All the excitement and glamor of bike touring would have to wait while we refilled our coffers.  Now, a year later, we're a little wiser, much less fit, and ready to get back to The Plan.

The Plan, as it exists currently, is as follows:

• July: Bike from Seoul to Busan, catch the ferry to Japan
• August: Visit some old friends in Osaka, apply for our Chinese visas, and oh yeah, perform at the Pasar Music Festival at the world-famous Pasar Moon!
• September: More biking in Korea to put our hard-earned Korean language skills to work, possibly revisiting Dori Village.
• October-???: Overland China to Singapore-ish.  Planning, generally, to take the ferry to Qingdao, the train to Xi'an, then bike south through China to Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Malaysia.

Here is Google's suggested route for our...hmm...

This last leg of the route will, if the money holds out, carry us until July 2015, when we hope to return to the States with wonderful memories and calves that could stun an elephant.  From there, the hope is to start teaching English in France!  We're applying to the Teaching Assistant Program in France, a program exclusively for Americans up to 30 years old (wheeeeee!).  If that goes through, then October 2015, we'll be shipping out for Europe, so friends on the continent, look out!  If we're not accepted to this program, then I guess we'll have to find something even crazier and more adventurous to do like the Peace Corps or something, ha ha ha.

No, seriously, the Peace Corps is our Plan B.

As for the last year of radio silence?  In short, life in Seoul has been...fine.  The job hasn't been so bad: reasonable hours, great coworkers, cute and frustrating students in equal proportions.  The people here are very friendly, and the food continues to be awesome (except, of course, for the bugs, which we haven't given a second chance).

I think one reason we didn't get a ton out of our time here in Seoul is because never fully committed to it the way we did to Japan.  It's a pretty cool city, to be sure, though it's much bigger and, as a result, much less intimate than Osaka.  There are far more expats living here, not all of them English teachers, and the majority of them (in our experience) don't even bother to learn any Korean, such is the strength of the expat bubble in this city.  It's entirely possible to speak only English, eat only foreign food, take in only foreign media and get by just fine in this city, even if you don't live on the military base.  I will at this point mention, putting aside the usual false humility schtick, that we did bother to learn a little Korean, at least.

But...yeah, we came here to make money, not to have the experience of living abroad, not to discover the true Korea.  Granted, we did try to keep busy: we've taken Korean lessons, French lessons, viola lessons, accordion lessons, art classes, belly dance classes, brewing classes, and cooking classes (which explains why we weren't able to save any more money).  We've made a few real friends here, and we have a few new skills to show for our time here, but in general, it was nothing all that special.

The year wasn't without low points, of course: we missed my brother's graduation and my grandmother's funeral.  Jenn's bike was stolen from our nearby subway station.  Four years of not going to the dentist resulted in some very expensive dental work (I won't tell you how many fillings I had, but let's just say that it rhymes with "ten").  I've never been too good at writing through bad feelings.  I have more to say on most of these occurrences, but I don't have it in me right now.  Maybe it'll get jogged loose on the road.  For now, just gonna say that I miss you, Grandma.

And now, a few photos to prove that we are still alive and haven't been replaced by smooth-typing spambots.  Witness the excitement of a year in Seoul (minus the photos of school hijinks, those will come in another post):

Thanksgivukkah Dinner.  Catering by Mr. Harry of Seoul.  Mr. Harry's outfit by Don't Like Shopping.

Our Christmas tree, loving hand-crafted from paint, junkmail, and up-cycled holiday decorations.

Homemade kimchi!  Still haven't gotten the smell out of the fridge.  This is why Korean people have a separate refrigerator for kimchi (seriously!).

A message of encouragement from the unblinking giant cat that watches you on the subway.

At some sort of zodiac-themed attraction by Gwangbukgung Palace.  Probably put here by aliens.

King Sejong invented the Korean alphabet and basically everything else.  His reward is to eternally watch over the selfies that tourists take of their dumb faces.

Installed outside one of Seoul's many, many, many plastic surgery clinics.  We later discovered that this is actually an installation produced by an unrelated art gallery.  You should see what I produced after looking at this too long.

Makin' beer!  This time, sugars and plant matter are fermenting in our closet on purpose.

A lovely surprise from home on our birthdays!  The deliveryman barked out "Happy birthday!  Brother!" before running off in embarrassment.  Thanks, Dan!

Another wonderful birthday present, this one from Mom and Dad.  Pay extra attention to the glass of homebrewed beer!  Pay less attention to the clutter on the cabinet, please.

At our friend/coworker Holly's house, makin' bagels with her two extremely awesome kids Joshua and Ashley.