Since my last real post, major events have shaken me and I just needed some time to sort through my life, my thoughts, my anxieties. And to think about my options and whatever future I may have here in Korea.
What started out as a rumor, as an uncomfortable piece of gossip spread around by the mouths of native english teachers (hereafter NETs), turned out to be true: the gov't is pulling all high school NETs at the end of their contract term.
I am a high school NET. My contract ends in february. I will not be allowed to teach at my school next year. Neither will I be replaced by another NET.
It was, and remains, such a blow. Like I was sucker punched in the gut.
And that is funny because all this year I had merely toyed with the idea of staying another year in Korea--stupidly thinking that if I didn't really commit to anything, then I wouldn't be disappointed.
How naive.
I've been weighing my options and trying to stay positive, but there's just so much up in the air right now and I honestly don't know where I'll end up in just a few months time. It's worrisome and stressful.
If I decide to renew my contract with the gov't, I will be transferred to either middle school or elementary school (no). Another option is to ditch the public school system and the gov't program, and find work in the private sector through an academy (no). My best option, and the one I hope comes true, is that I find a position at a university.
The question becomes, then, if I don't get a job at a university, will I stay in Korea or go back home? And if I return home, what job awaits me there? I, after all, need to keep working to pay my school loans off. This is not the time for me to dally.
As stressful as that alone is, some of the teachers have actually gone as far as to tell students that I'm leaving. I'm really upset by this because I feel like that information should have come from me personally. I would have liked the opportunity to tell my students that information at the time I saw fit, in the manner I saw fit. As it stands, I've tried to make the students who know promise not to tell anymore students--pinky swears are all but binding here in Korea.
But more that just that, when an occasional student does come up to me to bring up my impending departure, it's just really hard for me to talk about. I don't want to go. I really like my school, and my kids are amazing, and it's just so unfair that I'm being forced to give them up. I know that I was really blessed with my situation this year, and I know that I took it for granted.
And, since I am a sentimental person at heart, the littlest things will make me emotional. My students will do something so mundane, so potentially annoying, but in that moment it will strike me as something fleetingly beautiful. A moment, a memory of something that I will have so few opportunities to see again.
Sitting here in my apartment, looking at all of the stuff--the sheer amount of stuff--that I've accumulated in the last few months, and the home that I've made for myself in my little apartment...and I know that sooner rather than later, I'll have to pack it all up. For good or temporarily, I don't know yet. I don't want to buy anymore clothing or things for my apartment, because all I can think about is the potential hassle it will be to deal with in the near future.
I mean, I even have a giant bag of rice I have to somehow manage to eat by myself in something like 12 weeks...when I thought I'd have more than that.
And even riding the subway, I live off of line 5 (the purple line) and I know my route/stops so well. If I move somewhere else, I'll have to find all new routes and get accustomed to a whole new commute.
It's the little things, and big things, and everything else, that just makes this whole situation suck. Majorly.
So for now, I'm applying to jobs here, and I need to get the ball moving on jobs back at home--just in case--and hoping for the best.
Showing posts with label ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ramblings. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Heart, Mind, & Seoul: Finding My Way Back to Teaching
I've been crazy busy this past week, I don't even know I've survived. It all started last friday, when I had an all-day training seminar that sort of lit a fire under my ass. Lately, I had been feeling all sorts of comfortable when it came to teaching at my school. Some things suck, but some things were good, I coped and I got through it. I wasn't having the best classes, but I was also doing the best with what I had. I was dealing.
But the seminar reminded me that despite what seems like insurmountable obstacles in my way, as a teacher, I owe it to my kids to try and reach them. When I first got to Korea, I was hell bent on being able to effectively teach these kids english. I was full of so many ideas, was constantly trying out new things in the classroom, constantly creating. And then either out of ineffectiveness, hopelessness, or burn out, I stopped trying so hard.
On the one hand, it was good for me personally, because I enabled me to have more cognitive energy to do other things (e.g. learn korean, be a homewrecker), but my classes were uninspired and tedious.
So with a refreshed perspective, I started up this week with a ton of energy that I put into my lesson plans and classes. And I think it was one of my best weeks teaching ever. I felt really happy with the results, and I'm hoping this is a new start for both me and my students.
I am, however, so exhausted I can't see straight. Twice this week I got into the office at 6:45 am. By wednesday, I came home and just crashed at 8pm, I was so tired. I had dishes piled up in my sink, wet clothing that needed to be dried, and a whole bunch of trash that needed to be taken out. I also have no food at all in my apartment, but I am feeling good about how exhausted I am.
I will leave you with this: I had my students write a short essay on whether they preferred to only do what they are good at, or doing new things. I bawled like a baby reading their responses, this one in particular:
I feel so grateful to know these amazing kids, and so humbled to be a part of their lives. They are so fascinating and endlessly interesting, and so full of youth and the hope of their future lives. It's beyond wonderful to witness.
But the seminar reminded me that despite what seems like insurmountable obstacles in my way, as a teacher, I owe it to my kids to try and reach them. When I first got to Korea, I was hell bent on being able to effectively teach these kids english. I was full of so many ideas, was constantly trying out new things in the classroom, constantly creating. And then either out of ineffectiveness, hopelessness, or burn out, I stopped trying so hard.
On the one hand, it was good for me personally, because I enabled me to have more cognitive energy to do other things (e.g. learn korean, be a homewrecker), but my classes were uninspired and tedious.
So with a refreshed perspective, I started up this week with a ton of energy that I put into my lesson plans and classes. And I think it was one of my best weeks teaching ever. I felt really happy with the results, and I'm hoping this is a new start for both me and my students.
I am, however, so exhausted I can't see straight. Twice this week I got into the office at 6:45 am. By wednesday, I came home and just crashed at 8pm, I was so tired. I had dishes piled up in my sink, wet clothing that needed to be dried, and a whole bunch of trash that needed to be taken out. I also have no food at all in my apartment, but I am feeling good about how exhausted I am.
I will leave you with this: I had my students write a short essay on whether they preferred to only do what they are good at, or doing new things. I bawled like a baby reading their responses, this one in particular:
I feel so grateful to know these amazing kids, and so humbled to be a part of their lives. They are so fascinating and endlessly interesting, and so full of youth and the hope of their future lives. It's beyond wonderful to witness.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Please stop pushing me
There is very little about Korea that I find annoying. I try, as best as I can, to respect the culture differences between my home country and this place where I am living.
But after 7 months, I can safely say that cultural difference or not, I have to say this.
In Korea, there is a high respect for those older than you. This deference towards elders is everywhere--in the language, in the seating arrangements in subways/buses--and while this deference doesn't bother me at all (it actually makes me uncomfortable when it's not followed, since filipino people have a similar respect towards elders), what does get to me is a kind of reverse agism.
I will willing defer to elders, but that doesn't mean you get to treat me as less of a person. That just because I am younger than you doesn't mean you can treat me as if I don't exist. Please stop pushing me when there's so much room. Please stop cutting in front of me.
[line cutting!! omg this is so bad in korea! It goes against everything I've ever been taught in kindergarten and I can't help but look down upon those who cut in line. Totally judging you]
I exist as a person. I am clearly STANDING RIGHT HERE. why why why must you make me feel as if my person registers so far beneath you? The worst offenders are the ahjummas. Seriously annoying at times.
/end rant
But after 7 months, I can safely say that cultural difference or not, I have to say this.
In Korea, there is a high respect for those older than you. This deference towards elders is everywhere--in the language, in the seating arrangements in subways/buses--and while this deference doesn't bother me at all (it actually makes me uncomfortable when it's not followed, since filipino people have a similar respect towards elders), what does get to me is a kind of reverse agism.
I will willing defer to elders, but that doesn't mean you get to treat me as less of a person. That just because I am younger than you doesn't mean you can treat me as if I don't exist. Please stop pushing me when there's so much room. Please stop cutting in front of me.
[line cutting!! omg this is so bad in korea! It goes against everything I've ever been taught in kindergarten and I can't help but look down upon those who cut in line. Totally judging you]
I exist as a person. I am clearly STANDING RIGHT HERE. why why why must you make me feel as if my person registers so far beneath you? The worst offenders are the ahjummas. Seriously annoying at times.
/end rant
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Meeting Mr. Ideal
I recently acquired a new language exchange partner.
A new one, you ask. Another one?
I will save that drama for another day, but basically my previous language partner and I broke up (haha) because his girlfriend was crazy trippin. I was angry and upset, because at the end of the day, he was a great korean teacher, and I was at such a loss when we separated. At that point, I wasn't taking classes any longer, and was now without even a weekly language exchange.
For weeks I self-studied and toyed with the idea of getting a new partner, but it just seemed like SUCH a hassle. My inbox was filled with messages from people who were seeking language partners, and again, it was extremely overwhelming having to sort through all these messages only to get new ones daily.
And then there was the nagging annoyance of whether I would risk getting another male language partner. First of all, there wasn't a guarentee that a guy was really seeking a language partner, or a girlfriend. Second of all, even if he did want to learn english, who is to say that he wouldn't have some cray cray gf waiting in the wings and I'd have a repeat of what happened last time.
On the other hand, was I really going to be petty enough to let something like that stop me from getting a quality language partner? To be honest, I wasn't initally thrilled with the people who were messaging, and even less so with the girls who were messaging me. Many of them just wanted a foreigner friend, and listed their qualifications as being a native Korean speaker.
Right, because native speakers are always qualified to teach their native language.
Finally, on monday I decided I needed to buck up and just pick one. I made lists, I threw out immediate rejects-- "I really like beer" "Let's go to a jjimjilbang together"--and had even contacted a few of them.
And then, right when I was on the verge of settling on this Vet, I get this message from this guy with an interesting english name: Jasper. His message was good & his qualifications were fine, and I was about to sort him in my top 5 candidates...when he wrote a post script:
I mean, how could I turn that down?
We met yesterday, and I kid you not, my heart nearly burst in my chest. It was so strange to me, considering what a naturally anxious person I am, that I wasn't nervous at all prior to meeting. Juxtapose that against the first time I met my first language partner, where I was all butterflies and jitters and shakey like a small dog standing in a cool breeze heh.
I was ridiculously late, but we met at a starbucks and he came around the corner from where he was waiting for me, and it was like, a choir of angels or something began singing. We shook hands, I apologized for being so late, and he bought me a coffee.
I picked up on his british accent right away--due primarily from his study abroad--and I nearly swooned. A korean guy with a british accent. A tall korean guy from a good school with a good job with a british accent. Who loves soccer and who doesn't call it soccer but rather football like a proper british guy. And who doesn't call the subway, "subway" but rather "underground" like a proper british guy. And who throws around the word "lovely" in the same context that I do. And who has western style manners (which I miss more than I can say!).
He's like a mix of all my favorite things, and I sat there, wondering if he was real.
Like, I didn't ever think I would meet someone who, on the surface at least, fufilled all of my superficial "Ideal Guy" qualifications.
Needless to say, I was absolutely stunned.
I told him about how I felt like I was in a rut learning Korean, how things had ended previously with my old partner, and how I'm starting classes again on monday. He mentioned that he wasn't married, but that the ring on his left hand ring finger was, in fact, a couple ring. I felt a pang of disappointment, but also relief that at least he wasn't married! WHAT AM I?
He asked if we could meet twice a week, and gutton for punishment that I am, I agreed. We talked about our shared love of football, and made vague plans to go watch a match together. He saw me to the subway turn stalls, and I melted away the moment that I was beyond his gaze.
I am in so much trouble.
A new one, you ask. Another one?
I will save that drama for another day, but basically my previous language partner and I broke up (haha) because his girlfriend was crazy trippin. I was angry and upset, because at the end of the day, he was a great korean teacher, and I was at such a loss when we separated. At that point, I wasn't taking classes any longer, and was now without even a weekly language exchange.
For weeks I self-studied and toyed with the idea of getting a new partner, but it just seemed like SUCH a hassle. My inbox was filled with messages from people who were seeking language partners, and again, it was extremely overwhelming having to sort through all these messages only to get new ones daily.
And then there was the nagging annoyance of whether I would risk getting another male language partner. First of all, there wasn't a guarentee that a guy was really seeking a language partner, or a girlfriend. Second of all, even if he did want to learn english, who is to say that he wouldn't have some cray cray gf waiting in the wings and I'd have a repeat of what happened last time.
On the other hand, was I really going to be petty enough to let something like that stop me from getting a quality language partner? To be honest, I wasn't initally thrilled with the people who were messaging, and even less so with the girls who were messaging me. Many of them just wanted a foreigner friend, and listed their qualifications as being a native Korean speaker.
Right, because native speakers are always qualified to teach their native language.
Finally, on monday I decided I needed to buck up and just pick one. I made lists, I threw out immediate rejects-- "I really like beer" "Let's go to a jjimjilbang together"--and had even contacted a few of them.
And then, right when I was on the verge of settling on this Vet, I get this message from this guy with an interesting english name: Jasper. His message was good & his qualifications were fine, and I was about to sort him in my top 5 candidates...when he wrote a post script:
PS. I know that some male Koreans want to have relations other than
language exchange. I tried to qualify myself by showing some of my
information though it doesn't prove a man 100%. please don't mind
it.
I mean, how could I turn that down?
We met yesterday, and I kid you not, my heart nearly burst in my chest. It was so strange to me, considering what a naturally anxious person I am, that I wasn't nervous at all prior to meeting. Juxtapose that against the first time I met my first language partner, where I was all butterflies and jitters and shakey like a small dog standing in a cool breeze heh.
I was ridiculously late, but we met at a starbucks and he came around the corner from where he was waiting for me, and it was like, a choir of angels or something began singing. We shook hands, I apologized for being so late, and he bought me a coffee.
I picked up on his british accent right away--due primarily from his study abroad--and I nearly swooned. A korean guy with a british accent. A tall korean guy from a good school with a good job with a british accent. Who loves soccer and who doesn't call it soccer but rather football like a proper british guy. And who doesn't call the subway, "subway" but rather "underground" like a proper british guy. And who throws around the word "lovely" in the same context that I do. And who has western style manners (which I miss more than I can say!).
He's like a mix of all my favorite things, and I sat there, wondering if he was real.
Like, I didn't ever think I would meet someone who, on the surface at least, fufilled all of my superficial "Ideal Guy" qualifications.
Needless to say, I was absolutely stunned.
I told him about how I felt like I was in a rut learning Korean, how things had ended previously with my old partner, and how I'm starting classes again on monday. He mentioned that he wasn't married, but that the ring on his left hand ring finger was, in fact, a couple ring. I felt a pang of disappointment, but also relief that at least he wasn't married! WHAT AM I?
He asked if we could meet twice a week, and gutton for punishment that I am, I agreed. We talked about our shared love of football, and made vague plans to go watch a match together. He saw me to the subway turn stalls, and I melted away the moment that I was beyond his gaze.
I am in so much trouble.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Vacation, or Something Like It
My contract states I have 21 days of vacation for the year.
Unlike back home in the states, I don't really have a say in when exactly I can use those days. When I can take vacation days is determined by the academic calendar: if school is in session, I shouldn't take a vacation.
After summer camp was over, I used 5 of my vacation days (+ 2 weekends + 1 national holiday) for a Ten Day Summer Vacation. I'm not complaining about this, considering I've always taken summer school and have always basically had 10 days of summer vacation, but what I am bummed about is the fact that I did nothing and went no where for summer vacation.
That list of places I wanted to go to that I made earlier? Didn't see a single thing.
I know, I know. Trust me, I know.
I was actually really upset by this. I know it's all my fault, that if I really wanted to get out and go, then I should have just went, that there was nothing, really to stop me. But I let excuses pile up on excuses and ended up not even really leaving Seoul.
The weather was horrible, and all the things I wanted to do were outdoorsy--hike a mountain in the rain? go to the beach during a thunderstorm? no thank you. But it wasn't even just that, because I should have forced myself to explore more of Seoul.
But I didn't do anything.
Instead, I felt horrible about my life and myself and cried everyday. Not having anything to do, nowhere to go, no one to go with... it was the first time that I actually, horribly, felt homesick. I felt so terribly alone.
I felt disenabled. Stifled and suffocated by being in Seoul. I wanted to get out, but felt stuck. Maybe I couldn't make up my mind, that it was my own indecision, my own internal conflict that disabled me.
In any case, the tears fell a lot that week. Without work to define me and my life here in Korea, I was faced with the naked truth: I don't have a reason for being. I hated the feeling of not knowing for what I was living and why.
It was such a sobering thought.
I'm not saying that I hate my life here in Korea. Not that at all, but I am saying that it's not all roses here. There are times when you miss home something fierce, and there's nothing more you want to do than to just be with the people you love the most.
The upside of not doing a damn thing during my vacay: I booked my flight to Japan, and all the money I saved can and will be spent on my Japan vacation next month! Tokyo & Kyoto, wait for me!
Unlike back home in the states, I don't really have a say in when exactly I can use those days. When I can take vacation days is determined by the academic calendar: if school is in session, I shouldn't take a vacation.
After summer camp was over, I used 5 of my vacation days (+ 2 weekends + 1 national holiday) for a Ten Day Summer Vacation. I'm not complaining about this, considering I've always taken summer school and have always basically had 10 days of summer vacation, but what I am bummed about is the fact that I did nothing and went no where for summer vacation.
That list of places I wanted to go to that I made earlier? Didn't see a single thing.
I know, I know. Trust me, I know.
I was actually really upset by this. I know it's all my fault, that if I really wanted to get out and go, then I should have just went, that there was nothing, really to stop me. But I let excuses pile up on excuses and ended up not even really leaving Seoul.
The weather was horrible, and all the things I wanted to do were outdoorsy--hike a mountain in the rain? go to the beach during a thunderstorm? no thank you. But it wasn't even just that, because I should have forced myself to explore more of Seoul.
But I didn't do anything.
Instead, I felt horrible about my life and myself and cried everyday. Not having anything to do, nowhere to go, no one to go with... it was the first time that I actually, horribly, felt homesick. I felt so terribly alone.
I felt disenabled. Stifled and suffocated by being in Seoul. I wanted to get out, but felt stuck. Maybe I couldn't make up my mind, that it was my own indecision, my own internal conflict that disabled me.
In any case, the tears fell a lot that week. Without work to define me and my life here in Korea, I was faced with the naked truth: I don't have a reason for being. I hated the feeling of not knowing for what I was living and why.
It was such a sobering thought.
I'm not saying that I hate my life here in Korea. Not that at all, but I am saying that it's not all roses here. There are times when you miss home something fierce, and there's nothing more you want to do than to just be with the people you love the most.
The upside of not doing a damn thing during my vacay: I booked my flight to Japan, and all the money I saved can and will be spent on my Japan vacation next month! Tokyo & Kyoto, wait for me!
Monday, August 15, 2011
Heart, Mind & Seoul: The first Six Months
In about a week, I will have been here in Korea for 6 months. Half of my contract is over. Looking back on all of it I wonder about how different my life is, how different I am, and what makes me liking Korea so much. In many ways, my life here is one of convenience.
It was convenient for me to come here—not easy, mind you, but convenient in the sense that I had nothing keeping me in the states. Moreover teaching/living here was a convenient opportunity to help me take care of the pesky student loans I had accumulated during my university days.
Even living here, things are convenient: transportation, shopping, eating out, traveling, etc. Sure, sometimes the language barrier can be a problem, but for the most part, and especially since I live in Seoul, I can usually communicate something to get my point across.
Seoul has cafes and bars and clubs and shopping centers and subways and everything that we have back home.
All in all, there is very little inconvenience in my life.
And in many ways, my life hasn’t changed too dramatically since coming here. The places are different, the people, the language, the food—but me, my life, and what I do daily feels so routine.
Thus, I can’t help but wonder just what it is that is keeping me here in Korea.
Is it the fact that the novelty of living in another country hasn’t worn off yet?
Is it because my life is terribly convenient here?
Is it because I don’t really have a reason to leave?
That I don’t want to leave this life of little responsibility? Because I know that once I go back home, I know, truly, that I would have to buckle down and get serious about my life haha.
The thing about being a foreigner in Korea, is that you are just so, so aware of how much a foreigner you are. I’m not just talking about how much you stand out in a crowd, or how much people stare, the language barrier, or how some internet sites won’t accept your foreigner ID. What I am talking about is all of that, combined with the ever prevalent thought that the visa stamped in your passport only allows you to be in the country for a year and some days.
It’s the fact that with every foreigner you meet, there will come a time when you will have to say goodbye to that person.
It’s beginning.
This long and painful farewell. I haven’t yet been here 6 months and already I’ve had to say goodbye to people who are returning home. Some have finished their contracts and others are breaking them, but it’s a sad truth that honestly, our paths will most likely never cross again.
For whatever reason, our lives brought us here to Korea, and our paths crossed and we had these moments and shared experiences and this time…and that’s all we get.
It just feels so sad.
It could be said that this is a similar situation to that of going away to college. Everyone knows that eventually you’ll have to say goodbye to the places and people you met at college. That the end is always in sight.
Maybe it’s just that this is one year.
Maybe it’s that we were pulled from a wider pool of people, coming from more countries, distant countries, and that it would be harder to not only keep in contact, but to keep up meaningful contact.
Maybe it’s that as foreigners in a different country, we force bonds on each other faster and easier and it feels strange to continue in a place with a severed bond. To go on alone when there was a time when that wasn’t the case.
I’ve digressed.
I don’t know what it is about Korea that is keeping me here. What it is that is preventing me from leaving. But having been here for half of my contract, and only having another 6 months left here… I don’t think I’m ready to go yet. I feel like there’s more here for me to do and go and experience.
So if the opportunity comes to me to stay another year, I will accept it.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Heart, Mind, & Seoul: First Semester
Last week I finished my first semester teaching in Korea.
That first day of school, where I wandered into the teacher's room for the first time, after having gotten lost, and was led to my desk for my first taste of deskwarming, feels so far away. I started March 3, 2011. Only four months. Honestly, I've never had time rush by like this. As a student, the semester always seemed to tick by so slowly. On the opposite side of things, it goes by ridiculously fast. On the one hand, those four months seemed to slip by me so quickly, and yet, I feel so fundamentally different from the person who first got lost at school four months ago.
In the last four months I've gone through a couple different cycles while teaching at school. The first, clearly, was something akin to sheer terror and bubbling ineptness as I struggled to find my footing not only with students, but with the Korean education system, and also with my co-teachers. I bombed a lot in the classroom, but all those shitastic days helped me figure out what worked and what didn't with these students at this school and in this country.
From then, I felt myself go into a more comfortable stage where I wasn't nearly as stressed as I was before, and where I feel like my skin was a lot thicker to deal with all the crap that is the necessary companion to all the wonderful things that do happen when being the native english teacher.
Lastly, and this is where I feel I currently stand, is this stage where you begin to wonder about how to be more effective in the classroom given the institutional limitations of being the native english teacher. As much as I learned from my students, I'm not entirely convinced of their learning anything from me. As hard a pill as that is to swallow, I honestly wonder.
My situation is a little different from perhaps other english teachers either in Seoul or in Korea. The Korean english teachers at my school are utterly capable of teaching students English without my help. There's actually very little that I can provide for my students/school. Sure, I can check pronunciation and idioms, and I can offer the gem of cultural variety... but with the other Korean teachers being as adept as they are, I can't help but think that my position in the school is unneeded.
I'm not saying this is a bad thing. It's absolutely wonderful that my school is lucky enough to have such a strong English department, and ideally, their level of language skill and teaching is what ought to happen in all Korean English departments.
That is not to say that there aren't glaring holes in the English curriculum of Korea. Essentially, everything is directed towards getting the students' reading, writing, and listening skills good enough for them to pass/excel in the University Entrance Examinations. Basically, all students who want to go to university must take this test, and the english section stresses reading, writing and listening.
And not speaking. not conversation.
So while my students can come up with really interesting essays...their ability to speak on the fly is not so good considering how many years they've been studying English. This is the first institutional challenge to the English program in Korea. The curriculum doesn't really focus on conversation since the University Entrance exam doesn't cover it. Thus, students don't get the practice speaking that they should, nor do they think its as important in their long list of things to study since there's no exam where their ability is tested. Even I, as the native english teacher, don't have a say in their english grade and theres just no incentive for them to really study speaking. Besides me, there's not anyone they would even speak English with.
So I want my classes to be centered around conversation since grammar and everything else can be covered by Korean English teachers. But I'm subject to the whims and curriculum of my school, and if they want me to do writing projects with my students, then it's not something I can take lightly.
With all of this, it makes me wonder if I should renew my contract next year, if given a chance (and, with the cuts happening in Korea right now, this could be a very big IF). This is not the whinny post of someone who wants to feel important... the truth is that I'm not really needed. As a native english speaker, I'm not being utilized effectively, and as such, there's really no reason for me to stay.
I mean, except for the small fact that I love my students.
I'd like to stay in Korea. Do I want to stay at my school? Yes and no. Do I want to move to another public school where I'm met with the same institutional obstacles? Not really. Do I want move to a private english academy? No because students shouldn't have to pay ridiculous amounts of money to learn the same English skills they should get from going to public school. Nor do I want to correlate someone's English proficiency in Korea to the amount of money they own and can spend on these academies. Being proficient in English/Education is a privilege that is available and thus should be readily accessible regardless of income.
Do I want to feel useful and effective? Yes. Do I wish I could do that while staying at my school? Absolutely. My only hope is that next semester will be better. I say better because supposedly the semester is to be focused on conversation (as opposed to this semester which was the "reading/writing" semester).
However, they just gave me the conversation book yesterday. I haven't looked at it yet, but if I'm just going to be teaching scripted dialogues out of a book, things aren't looking too promising.
That first day of school, where I wandered into the teacher's room for the first time, after having gotten lost, and was led to my desk for my first taste of deskwarming, feels so far away. I started March 3, 2011. Only four months. Honestly, I've never had time rush by like this. As a student, the semester always seemed to tick by so slowly. On the opposite side of things, it goes by ridiculously fast. On the one hand, those four months seemed to slip by me so quickly, and yet, I feel so fundamentally different from the person who first got lost at school four months ago.
In the last four months I've gone through a couple different cycles while teaching at school. The first, clearly, was something akin to sheer terror and bubbling ineptness as I struggled to find my footing not only with students, but with the Korean education system, and also with my co-teachers. I bombed a lot in the classroom, but all those shitastic days helped me figure out what worked and what didn't with these students at this school and in this country.
From then, I felt myself go into a more comfortable stage where I wasn't nearly as stressed as I was before, and where I feel like my skin was a lot thicker to deal with all the crap that is the necessary companion to all the wonderful things that do happen when being the native english teacher.
Lastly, and this is where I feel I currently stand, is this stage where you begin to wonder about how to be more effective in the classroom given the institutional limitations of being the native english teacher. As much as I learned from my students, I'm not entirely convinced of their learning anything from me. As hard a pill as that is to swallow, I honestly wonder.
My situation is a little different from perhaps other english teachers either in Seoul or in Korea. The Korean english teachers at my school are utterly capable of teaching students English without my help. There's actually very little that I can provide for my students/school. Sure, I can check pronunciation and idioms, and I can offer the gem of cultural variety... but with the other Korean teachers being as adept as they are, I can't help but think that my position in the school is unneeded.
I'm not saying this is a bad thing. It's absolutely wonderful that my school is lucky enough to have such a strong English department, and ideally, their level of language skill and teaching is what ought to happen in all Korean English departments.
That is not to say that there aren't glaring holes in the English curriculum of Korea. Essentially, everything is directed towards getting the students' reading, writing, and listening skills good enough for them to pass/excel in the University Entrance Examinations. Basically, all students who want to go to university must take this test, and the english section stresses reading, writing and listening.
And not speaking. not conversation.
So while my students can come up with really interesting essays...their ability to speak on the fly is not so good considering how many years they've been studying English. This is the first institutional challenge to the English program in Korea. The curriculum doesn't really focus on conversation since the University Entrance exam doesn't cover it. Thus, students don't get the practice speaking that they should, nor do they think its as important in their long list of things to study since there's no exam where their ability is tested. Even I, as the native english teacher, don't have a say in their english grade and theres just no incentive for them to really study speaking. Besides me, there's not anyone they would even speak English with.
So I want my classes to be centered around conversation since grammar and everything else can be covered by Korean English teachers. But I'm subject to the whims and curriculum of my school, and if they want me to do writing projects with my students, then it's not something I can take lightly.
With all of this, it makes me wonder if I should renew my contract next year, if given a chance (and, with the cuts happening in Korea right now, this could be a very big IF). This is not the whinny post of someone who wants to feel important... the truth is that I'm not really needed. As a native english speaker, I'm not being utilized effectively, and as such, there's really no reason for me to stay.
I mean, except for the small fact that I love my students.
I'd like to stay in Korea. Do I want to stay at my school? Yes and no. Do I want to move to another public school where I'm met with the same institutional obstacles? Not really. Do I want move to a private english academy? No because students shouldn't have to pay ridiculous amounts of money to learn the same English skills they should get from going to public school. Nor do I want to correlate someone's English proficiency in Korea to the amount of money they own and can spend on these academies. Being proficient in English/Education is a privilege that is available and thus should be readily accessible regardless of income.
Do I want to feel useful and effective? Yes. Do I wish I could do that while staying at my school? Absolutely. My only hope is that next semester will be better. I say better because supposedly the semester is to be focused on conversation (as opposed to this semester which was the "reading/writing" semester).
However, they just gave me the conversation book yesterday. I haven't looked at it yet, but if I'm just going to be teaching scripted dialogues out of a book, things aren't looking too promising.
Monday, June 27, 2011
hangul jal motaeyo
I'm getting really frustrated with how little I've progressed with Korean. I might have said this earlier, but in my Korean class, we burn through chapters in something like 2 days, which means grammar points have just been flung at me, and while that in and of itself isn't difficult during class, it's a completely different thing once I'm in a situation where I need to use it.
Because being able to use particles correctly when they are in a worksheet in front of you is not the same as being able to use them correctly when talking to someone.
We move from grammar point to grammar point so quickly and without having enough practical use to feel neither comfortable nor competent. When I'm actually talking to someone I can't make heads or tail of anything and so my korean fails me.
I realized yesterday that I haven't actually put together Korean sentences. This is not okay.
I'm hesitant to sign up for the next class. It's a difficult situation because I like the class--the people are great--and the teacher is wonderful, but its the structure of the class that I'm frustrated with. Grammar is important, of course it is, but I need to be able to speak. I need conversation practice. I need to be able to use what I've supposedly learned.
Incidently, the things that have really stuck with me thus far and the things I've learned from taxi drivers or out of necessity. Taxi drivers are great--sometimes--for teaching you odd words that have oddly enough become very handy. Likewise, when I wasn't feeling well and had to stumble into a pharmacy, I learned how to say what hurts.
Maybe it's because the korean we're learning in class is, like most studied languages, not the way in which you speak. Maybe the class isn't for me. Maybe I need to try a new method. Maybe I need to step up my studying game.
Which is another point of concern. Maybe I'm still burnt out over all that schooling that I've done, but I don't understand how lazy I've become in terms of studying Korean. Sure, I mean when I was a student the only thing I was really responsible for was studying, and thus made it a point to study, but I don't see why that has changed now that I have this 8-5 job. This bothers me, because I don't like feeling like a slacker.
I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I need to make up my mind soon.
Also, I'm supposed to meet my Korean language exchange partner tomorrow. I'm already dreading it.
Because being able to use particles correctly when they are in a worksheet in front of you is not the same as being able to use them correctly when talking to someone.
We move from grammar point to grammar point so quickly and without having enough practical use to feel neither comfortable nor competent. When I'm actually talking to someone I can't make heads or tail of anything and so my korean fails me.
I realized yesterday that I haven't actually put together Korean sentences. This is not okay.
I'm hesitant to sign up for the next class. It's a difficult situation because I like the class--the people are great--and the teacher is wonderful, but its the structure of the class that I'm frustrated with. Grammar is important, of course it is, but I need to be able to speak. I need conversation practice. I need to be able to use what I've supposedly learned.
Incidently, the things that have really stuck with me thus far and the things I've learned from taxi drivers or out of necessity. Taxi drivers are great--sometimes--for teaching you odd words that have oddly enough become very handy. Likewise, when I wasn't feeling well and had to stumble into a pharmacy, I learned how to say what hurts.
Maybe it's because the korean we're learning in class is, like most studied languages, not the way in which you speak. Maybe the class isn't for me. Maybe I need to try a new method. Maybe I need to step up my studying game.
Which is another point of concern. Maybe I'm still burnt out over all that schooling that I've done, but I don't understand how lazy I've become in terms of studying Korean. Sure, I mean when I was a student the only thing I was really responsible for was studying, and thus made it a point to study, but I don't see why that has changed now that I have this 8-5 job. This bothers me, because I don't like feeling like a slacker.
I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I need to make up my mind soon.
Also, I'm supposed to meet my Korean language exchange partner tomorrow. I'm already dreading it.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Heart, Mind, & Seoul: 100 Days
After 3 months of officially living in Korea, a day that was commemorated by a bungee jump, I can actually say that I've built the foundation of a life here. Things are more familiar, I have daily/weekly routines, I can navigate the subways without a map, I get suggest areas for sightseeing/shopping/eating.
As busy as I am--I work monday through friday with korean class for 2 hours on monday, wednesday and every other friday--I also feel like my life is settling down, which is nice. It's nice because it means I'm not this frantic visitor who is trying to cram everything down into an itinerary. It means I have begun growing roots to this place. It means I've taken the steps in calling this place, this city, my home.
And yet.
It's strange because I also feel that as my life settles down, and to a certain extent, slows down, I find myself wanting to speed things back up again. What more can I do, I ask myself. What new adventure can I tackle this weekend? What else can I experience to make myself feel that newness--that fresh excitement--that I once felt when I first came to this amazing country? The more I settle in, the more I feel like I want to pull myself out of that comfortableness--to remind myself, perhaps, not to take this time for granted, and to make the most of everyday.
Because I can feel myself grow, well, not exactly lazy, but maybe just accustomed. I feel like I need to be more proactive about things. I used to plan out my weekends in advance, writing lists of places to go, things to see. These days I don't really plan for anything, and it doesn't bother me. There's still a lot I want to see and do, so I wonder why it is that I'm not being more proactive. Where is the art class I wanted to take? What about getting that conversation partner? The hiking trips? The cooking lessons?
Why am I content with idle days when there's so much out there!
So I've decided to become more proactive. This is a must. Because while it's nice to have roots here in Seoul, I can't also let time here slip by where I don't do anything/go anywhere.
Also, I think this will also help me as I go through this supposed second phase of living/teaching in korea. I think the "honeymoon" phase--where everything is shiny and new and amazing and mind-blowing and special and korea can do no wrong--is just about over. The next phase is characterized with the thought that Korea can only do wrong, and intense longing for home. Things have lost their luster, and you spiral into this homesick depression. Or so I've been told. I've spoken to some NETs (native english teachers) who have never experienced it and have been here for months/years.
The last thing I want to talk about for today is the fact that while being a foreigner in Korea can have its struggles, it also has its rewards. And the tight-knit, supportive group of foreigners--living in korea, not merely visiting--is one of them. I can't begin to explain how wonderful it is to have this network of people, how incredibly comforting it is to have people going through the same experience as you. We walk our individual paths, but we walk along with each other. And because it is so amazing, when its time to say goodbye, it's also amazingly sad.
That's the other thing about living in Korea, or I suppose, any other country. You're always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's great to have friends here, but the downside is that we're all so temporary. Our lives here are temporary and fleeting. It's like we live in this dream world where we play and exist only in the bounds where nothing is permanent or real. The reality, then, comes when we must part.
And it's horrible.
When someone talks about going home/leaving/not renewing their contract, we're immediately forced to acknowledge our own impermanence, our own temporary condition. It's like we're shadows living among the living, and we hate to think of just how shadowy we actually are.
And it applies to everything. Can I justify this purchase of a smart phone/couch/desk/chair, etc., knowing full well that I may not have that much time left? That one day I'll have to leave it/them behind? Is it worth it to buy? To make friendships? To invest emotional energy?
Because one day, someday soon, someday far, we'll stop being shadowy dreams and go back to our real lives in our real hometowns with our real jobs.
And Korea, this time, this experience---this will be the thing that will feel like a dream.
It's odd, knowing that I've been here for 3 months already. Time is flying by so fast. 3 months is 1/4th of my contract. I want to take hold of time, make it count, and commit it all to memory.
As busy as I am--I work monday through friday with korean class for 2 hours on monday, wednesday and every other friday--I also feel like my life is settling down, which is nice. It's nice because it means I'm not this frantic visitor who is trying to cram everything down into an itinerary. It means I have begun growing roots to this place. It means I've taken the steps in calling this place, this city, my home.
And yet.
It's strange because I also feel that as my life settles down, and to a certain extent, slows down, I find myself wanting to speed things back up again. What more can I do, I ask myself. What new adventure can I tackle this weekend? What else can I experience to make myself feel that newness--that fresh excitement--that I once felt when I first came to this amazing country? The more I settle in, the more I feel like I want to pull myself out of that comfortableness--to remind myself, perhaps, not to take this time for granted, and to make the most of everyday.
Because I can feel myself grow, well, not exactly lazy, but maybe just accustomed. I feel like I need to be more proactive about things. I used to plan out my weekends in advance, writing lists of places to go, things to see. These days I don't really plan for anything, and it doesn't bother me. There's still a lot I want to see and do, so I wonder why it is that I'm not being more proactive. Where is the art class I wanted to take? What about getting that conversation partner? The hiking trips? The cooking lessons?
Why am I content with idle days when there's so much out there!
So I've decided to become more proactive. This is a must. Because while it's nice to have roots here in Seoul, I can't also let time here slip by where I don't do anything/go anywhere.
Also, I think this will also help me as I go through this supposed second phase of living/teaching in korea. I think the "honeymoon" phase--where everything is shiny and new and amazing and mind-blowing and special and korea can do no wrong--is just about over. The next phase is characterized with the thought that Korea can only do wrong, and intense longing for home. Things have lost their luster, and you spiral into this homesick depression. Or so I've been told. I've spoken to some NETs (native english teachers) who have never experienced it and have been here for months/years.
The last thing I want to talk about for today is the fact that while being a foreigner in Korea can have its struggles, it also has its rewards. And the tight-knit, supportive group of foreigners--living in korea, not merely visiting--is one of them. I can't begin to explain how wonderful it is to have this network of people, how incredibly comforting it is to have people going through the same experience as you. We walk our individual paths, but we walk along with each other. And because it is so amazing, when its time to say goodbye, it's also amazingly sad.
That's the other thing about living in Korea, or I suppose, any other country. You're always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's great to have friends here, but the downside is that we're all so temporary. Our lives here are temporary and fleeting. It's like we live in this dream world where we play and exist only in the bounds where nothing is permanent or real. The reality, then, comes when we must part.
And it's horrible.
When someone talks about going home/leaving/not renewing their contract, we're immediately forced to acknowledge our own impermanence, our own temporary condition. It's like we're shadows living among the living, and we hate to think of just how shadowy we actually are.
And it applies to everything. Can I justify this purchase of a smart phone/couch/desk/chair, etc., knowing full well that I may not have that much time left? That one day I'll have to leave it/them behind? Is it worth it to buy? To make friendships? To invest emotional energy?
Because one day, someday soon, someday far, we'll stop being shadowy dreams and go back to our real lives in our real hometowns with our real jobs.
And Korea, this time, this experience---this will be the thing that will feel like a dream.
It's odd, knowing that I've been here for 3 months already. Time is flying by so fast. 3 months is 1/4th of my contract. I want to take hold of time, make it count, and commit it all to memory.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Founding Ceremony & Hemlines
About a week ago my school had its annual day to celebrate its founding. This meant that I got to see a wonderful ceremony which included an eerie voice recording of the school's founder and performances by the students. The choir sang, with the most adorable choreography which was compounded by the fact that some students forgot it and were doing the wrong move at the wrong time:) There were these other dance performances, and oh. em. gee. was is scandalous!
I mean, okay, in Korea women can wear the shortest skirts/shorts ever, but if I as much as show my collarbones, I'm the slut. And apparently our school has no problem with girls wearing skirts super above the strict below-the-knees rule...as long as its for a performance. And it was totally fine to wear these backless dresses. And it was totally okay for them the chest pop, get low, thrust, and the like.
As I sat on the stands, in the section of teachers squeezed between students and the administrators on stage--including the two school representatives of Han Buddhism-- I wondered why no one else was bothered by this.
There's this notion that my students have, which I'm sure the teachers/adults have as well, that since public schools in the US don't have uniforms, that students can wear whatever they want. And that the hip thrusting they see in western movies/TV actually happens, and is common, at school. But the reality is that most public schools STILL have some sort of dress code, so that actually, no, we can't just wear whatever we want--and honestly, I've never, ever, in all my years of going to school in the states, seen a girl wear a skirt as short, or shorter, than a girl in korea. Oh right, and that hip thrusting dancing? Not in a high school, at least not in my high school. I cant say this confidently because I oversaw the pep rallies/student performances and everything was checked--from wardrobe, to song lyrics, to dance moves. I'm not saying it doesn't happens, but in clubs or dance halls, or I dunno, on the streets. Most definitely not in high schools ceremonies.
I'm not sure why there's this double standard. You reprimand students for hiking up their skirts after school hours, but then its totally okay for them to show so much skin for a dance performance in front of the whole school, the principals, and the administration. Is it simply because its a dance performance? Is it based off a notion that this is just how you do things, as modeled by the west? Is it approved because, hey, at least it's not as bad as how students in the west behave?
I'm not a prude, but considering how strict my school is--with everything--I was just surprised that that ish could fly.
Anyway, the ceremony was wrapped up by the school's cheer team. But definitely not the kind that comes to mind a la Bring it On but more like a spirit team/pep squad? No somersaults, not flips, no pyramids, no launching people into the air. More like a lot of arm movements, running around trying to get people to clap/be excited, and coordinated formations. Oh, and there were pom poms & like western--and by this I mean like cowboys western--inspired outfits which were super cute :)
I mean, okay, in Korea women can wear the shortest skirts/shorts ever, but if I as much as show my collarbones, I'm the slut. And apparently our school has no problem with girls wearing skirts super above the strict below-the-knees rule...as long as its for a performance. And it was totally fine to wear these backless dresses. And it was totally okay for them the chest pop, get low, thrust, and the like.
As I sat on the stands, in the section of teachers squeezed between students and the administrators on stage--including the two school representatives of Han Buddhism-- I wondered why no one else was bothered by this.
There's this notion that my students have, which I'm sure the teachers/adults have as well, that since public schools in the US don't have uniforms, that students can wear whatever they want. And that the hip thrusting they see in western movies/TV actually happens, and is common, at school. But the reality is that most public schools STILL have some sort of dress code, so that actually, no, we can't just wear whatever we want--and honestly, I've never, ever, in all my years of going to school in the states, seen a girl wear a skirt as short, or shorter, than a girl in korea. Oh right, and that hip thrusting dancing? Not in a high school, at least not in my high school. I cant say this confidently because I oversaw the pep rallies/student performances and everything was checked--from wardrobe, to song lyrics, to dance moves. I'm not saying it doesn't happens, but in clubs or dance halls, or I dunno, on the streets. Most definitely not in high schools ceremonies.
I'm not sure why there's this double standard. You reprimand students for hiking up their skirts after school hours, but then its totally okay for them to show so much skin for a dance performance in front of the whole school, the principals, and the administration. Is it simply because its a dance performance? Is it based off a notion that this is just how you do things, as modeled by the west? Is it approved because, hey, at least it's not as bad as how students in the west behave?
I'm not a prude, but considering how strict my school is--with everything--I was just surprised that that ish could fly.
Anyway, the ceremony was wrapped up by the school's cheer team. But definitely not the kind that comes to mind a la Bring it On but more like a spirit team/pep squad? No somersaults, not flips, no pyramids, no launching people into the air. More like a lot of arm movements, running around trying to get people to clap/be excited, and coordinated formations. Oh, and there were pom poms & like western--and by this I mean like cowboys western--inspired outfits which were super cute :)
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Heart, Mind, & Seoul: Month One
It's been one month to the day that I've been in Seoul. It's been a whirlwind month to say the least, and I'm not quite sure how to describe how surreal everything still feels, and yet at the same time, the stirrings of the familiar and the comfort of a place called home.
I'm only just starting to get into a routine, of work as well as play, and during the daytime when I'm on the grind, it's lovely to have the evenings and the weekends to explore. The city is still on a scale the likes of which I've never lived before, and there's so much I want to see and do and I know that I've barely scratched the surface of what it means to live in Seoul. Or, in other words, I have yet to discover what Seoul's word is. I feel like such an adventurer, going just to go because I'm confident that I'll find something worth going for. It's thrilling and exciting and at times can make someone feel infinite, even, or perhaps especially, in a city of bright lights and nameless faces.
I had worried, initially, about my choice to work in Seoul. At first I wasn't sure I was prepared for Seoul--that it would be too big, too urban, too impersonal for me. I had thought maybe I better start out somewhere close by, but not in, Seoul... like Incheon or Suwon/Gyeonggi. But then I realized that you can never prepare for something as complex as Seoul--that there's nothing you can do, say, plan for, or study that can encompass all the Seoul is. You just have to go, and trust that as big as a city like Seoul is, with all of its means and resources and experience at its disposal, it can offer your something that no other city in Korea can.
So I decided to go with Seoul, and I haven't regretted it once.
But this day not only marks the end of my first month in Korea...but it also marks the last day of my 25th year. Tomorrow is my 26th birthday.
Did I know, a year ago that I would be celebrating my 26th in Korea? I hadn't the faintest idea. Sure, the idea would have been extremely appealing to me, but I think back then it was something like wishful thinking. There were a million reasons why I couldn't have gone half-way around the world for something like teaching english.
It's funny how all million reasons seemed to be carried off by the wind. In the end, they amounted to very little.
This last year saw some incredible highs and lows. I finished my master's thesis and obtained my masters degree. I moved across the country to study at UPenn. I got my butt kicked by greek & subsequently dropped out of school. I bummed around Pennsylvania and then California for months doing random work & play. I moved out of the US to work internationally. I began to study Korean. I currently have two apartments in two cities in two countries. I made new friends and kept old ones. I got into fights, and I laughed. A lot.
All in all, not a bad year, I say.
When I think about my life as it currently stands, there's not a whole lot I would change about it. Sure, I had envisioned my life differently as a child, and it's true that I would like a bit more stability, since I can't be teaching english in Korea my whole life and need to be prepared for what happens to me once I leave this place (if I leave this place?) and settle back down in the US...this is the very thing that worries my parents the most, because, let's face it, I'm not exactly young enough to be gallivanting all over without a care in the world. BUT, I'm happy. Here, in this place, in this space, in this moment.
I not only work and survive in Seoul, but I also live in Seoul. I hope to flourish in Seoul.
I also would not be here without the people who have supported, and continue to support, me. I am only ever so strong because I know the quality of the people who are at my back. In so many ways, this adventure is yours as well as mine.
I'm only just starting to get into a routine, of work as well as play, and during the daytime when I'm on the grind, it's lovely to have the evenings and the weekends to explore. The city is still on a scale the likes of which I've never lived before, and there's so much I want to see and do and I know that I've barely scratched the surface of what it means to live in Seoul. Or, in other words, I have yet to discover what Seoul's word is. I feel like such an adventurer, going just to go because I'm confident that I'll find something worth going for. It's thrilling and exciting and at times can make someone feel infinite, even, or perhaps especially, in a city of bright lights and nameless faces.
I had worried, initially, about my choice to work in Seoul. At first I wasn't sure I was prepared for Seoul--that it would be too big, too urban, too impersonal for me. I had thought maybe I better start out somewhere close by, but not in, Seoul... like Incheon or Suwon/Gyeonggi. But then I realized that you can never prepare for something as complex as Seoul--that there's nothing you can do, say, plan for, or study that can encompass all the Seoul is. You just have to go, and trust that as big as a city like Seoul is, with all of its means and resources and experience at its disposal, it can offer your something that no other city in Korea can.
So I decided to go with Seoul, and I haven't regretted it once.
But this day not only marks the end of my first month in Korea...but it also marks the last day of my 25th year. Tomorrow is my 26th birthday.
Did I know, a year ago that I would be celebrating my 26th in Korea? I hadn't the faintest idea. Sure, the idea would have been extremely appealing to me, but I think back then it was something like wishful thinking. There were a million reasons why I couldn't have gone half-way around the world for something like teaching english.
It's funny how all million reasons seemed to be carried off by the wind. In the end, they amounted to very little.
This last year saw some incredible highs and lows. I finished my master's thesis and obtained my masters degree. I moved across the country to study at UPenn. I got my butt kicked by greek & subsequently dropped out of school. I bummed around Pennsylvania and then California for months doing random work & play. I moved out of the US to work internationally. I began to study Korean. I currently have two apartments in two cities in two countries. I made new friends and kept old ones. I got into fights, and I laughed. A lot.
All in all, not a bad year, I say.
When I think about my life as it currently stands, there's not a whole lot I would change about it. Sure, I had envisioned my life differently as a child, and it's true that I would like a bit more stability, since I can't be teaching english in Korea my whole life and need to be prepared for what happens to me once I leave this place (if I leave this place?) and settle back down in the US...this is the very thing that worries my parents the most, because, let's face it, I'm not exactly young enough to be gallivanting all over without a care in the world. BUT, I'm happy. Here, in this place, in this space, in this moment.
I not only work and survive in Seoul, but I also live in Seoul. I hope to flourish in Seoul.
I also would not be here without the people who have supported, and continue to support, me. I am only ever so strong because I know the quality of the people who are at my back. In so many ways, this adventure is yours as well as mine.
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