Teaching in Korea

I have been teaching English in South Korea since July of 2010. Both of my parents are teachers and I have always had a great respect for this profession. Here I will describe the good, bad, and ugly sides of my experience, placed in reverse order because I like ending on a positive note.


The Ugly


I work in a private school ("hagwon" in Romanized Korean) and I've often been made very aware that I'm working for a business. Education certainly takes a back seat to profit at our academy. The principal has zero teaching experience, but that doesn't prevent her from being hyper-critical of what she views as mistakes made by the teachers. She is a very proud woman that does not want to be questioned. She has fired teachers for frivolous reasons and has burned many bridges. Unsurprisingly, the Korean teacher turnover rate is very high at our school.


The Bad


Korean children are worked incredibly hard. Every second that they aren't taking lessons is viewed as a waste by their demanding and competitive parents. "Teacher Greg, my didn't do homework. Very busy. Me go elementary school. Then piano school. Now Englishee academy. Next science hagwon. My go taekwondo after. So, so, so, sooo tired." I'm thinking, "God damn. How are you still alive?"


This is more of an observation on Korean culture in general than their education system specifically, but there are no sick days here. I'm still looking for them. They've got to be out there. If you miss work, you had better be having surgery performed on you. Then once you're stitched up, it's time to go back. I'm being factitious, but only slightly. Working while ill demonstrates dedication, hard work, and loyalty to your colleagues, boss, and company. The students too will rarely miss school due to sickness. They're sent coughing, sneezing, puking, and wiping snot over everything they touch, spreading their germs to anyone near by. 


The Good


With that bit of negativity out of the way, I'll now share the brighter side of my experience and describe what caused me to renew my contract. 


The bond that I've created with my students is something that I hold very dear. During the week I spend more time with some of them than they do with their parents. I feel that we have grown quite close. I am very aware that I'm in a position where I'm able to have a great influence on their development as human beings. This responsibility is something that I take with extreme seriousness. I try my best to encourage curiosity of the world around them, cooperation with those they interact, and confidence in themselves. I tell them that I love them and I mean it with every bit of my heart. 


Normally, teaching contracts here are for one year. I was asked to renew mine for an additional eight months so that I would stay until the end of their school year. It wasn't long before I had made my decision. I was enjoying my time too much to say "no". 


Even if it's comes gradually, I love to watch their abilities expand and develop. I'm constantly amazed by how much they know. I hope that I've taught them well. I know that I've learned a few lessons from them. They've increased my patience and forced me to become a better listener. They've also really helped me take myself less seriously. I now understand that it's O.K. to (sometimes) act like a goof in front of others. Life can be very fun. After spending so much time with children, the realization that I am most grateful for is of how strongly my desire to be a father is. I cannot envision a future without children of my own.


All of my students are special to me, but admittedly there are a few that I feel particularly close to. One cute, little girl named Amy likes to give me hugs and hold my hand. She's mischievous, but it's so damn adorable that I let it slide. She has yet to develop the confidence to speak out as often as her classmates, but she always writes little notes for me. During one class while printing something on the board, I turned around to find her crying. She looked absolutely devastated. "Amy, what's the matter?" I asked crouching down beside her. She showed me her broken pencil case. It wasn't actually broken at all. The lid had just snapped out of place. I quickly fixed it and gave it back to her. I'll never forget the look on her face. Later on I saw her writing on a small piece of paper. As I was knelt down beside another student, I felt a little hand slip a note into my shirt pocket. I turned around and saw Amy dash back to her seat. I pulled out the note. It read, "Thank you Teacher Greg for fixing my pencil case. I like you Teacher Greg. If you go to Canada I am sad. Love Amy." 

Amy and I.

The student that I feel strongest about is a boy named Alex, the son of the principal at my school. Alex was here when I arrived. I was my school's first foreign teacher and he was my first student. When he graduated from my kindergarten class in February 2011, the principal asked if I would continue teaching him privately during two of the afternoon classes. I happily agreed. 


Alex has a difficult time interacting with other students. He can be very impatient and quick to anger. I feel his great frustration but I'm unsure of the exact reason behind it. He likes to play alone. He tells me that other students are too noisy. In many ways Alex reminds me of myself. 


During our classes together, he really enjoys talking about the newest scientific material he's learned about. He's fascinated by topics such as space, magnets, robots, and time travel. I combined the topics he loved discussing then wrote and illustrated a book for him. It took me several months, but I was happy with the finished product. The story was about a boy that wanted to relive his previous school year (something that Alex wanted), so he built a spaceship to search for a worm hole that would take him back in time. Along the way the hero encounters aliens who just so happen to speak perfect English. I wasn't aiming for scientific accuracy. 

The end result of months of work.

I remember the day that I gave the story book to him. "For me?" he asked. I nodded. He held the book with arms outstretched and then carefully set it down on the table. He sat in his chair. He gently turned the first page and gazed at the illustration. After he had seen each picture he looked up to me and said, "I think this book is the number one book in Korea." Hearing him say that was worth every single hour I spent making it. 


For a seven year old, Alex is remarkably deep. One unfortunate day his rabbit ate grass that had been sprayed with pesticide. It died from the poison. Later on, Alex began asking questions regarding death. I told him how I had felt when my grandfather died. "Teacher Greg, when you a grandfather and you almost die, I want to cut me in half and give you half my energy so that you don't die. O.K.?" 


Jesus.


Alex has known for a little while now that I will be leaving at the end of this month. He has asked me a few times, "Teacher Greg, you can stay in Korea one more time?" I told him that it's been very long since I last saw my family, but that I'll write letters to him and show him around British Columbia if he ever gets the chance to visit. Saying goodbye to Alex is going to be one of the most difficult things I'll ever have to do. 


My teaching experience here has been overwhelmingly positive. There have been bumps along the way, but I'm sure that's true for most jobs. I've learned so much about myself and life during my stay and I've formed memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my days.