My senior year of college I decided to enroll in a "coaching" class at Penn State, which featured a weekly lecturer from the university's archives of athletic figures. One such week a man by the name of Jerry came by to talk about his charity organization, The Second Mile, which helped foster and guide troubled youth.
Not physically, but I recall being moved by a man who'd given up his legendary coaching career to pursue a greater good. Obviously he had hidden motives that wouldn't reveal themselves for years. I guess things aren't always what they seem.
We also took a day trip to a Korean farm where villagers taught us how to make rice cake and tofu from scratch.
After the formalities were taken care of, smaller groups of scholars were bused off to their regional orientation locations. Some were put up in five-star hotels in more of a party atmosphere, others were placed in rural areas and forced to lesson plan for hours a day. My group, consisting of scholars going to the Gyeongbuk province, were sent to an English / Concentration camp called "Chilgok English Town," about a three-hour bus ride away.
This place was one of the most bizarre atmospheres I've ever found myself in, and I pride myself on getting weird. We were situated outside of Korea's third largest city, Daegu, yet surrounded by woods so dense that supervisors warned us of wild boar. We were in the middle of Korea, yet everything in this English town was western in nature. They basically ship kids there for days or weeks to simulate life in an English speaking country.
Everyone there bonded quickly and our regional coordinators were incredibly generous, planning interactive lectures and events during the days, and providing us with chicken and beer at night. At one point a K-Pop dance team came to perform. After being broken into teams and forced to memorize a dance in an hour, each team had to perform on stage for the entire camp. Our team of six males and one female won on pure sex appeal, mostly stemming from a
6' 3" South African Rugby player appropriately named Riekus.
Riekus is basically a giant teddy bear that will kill you. One night, before I knew him, I wanted to see what percentage teddy bear to rugby beast he was, so I decided to give him a kiss on the cheek. Turns out he is mostly Teddy Bear. Speaking of bears, I could really use a six-inch Hungry Bears sub right now.
It was my 27th birthday in Korean age, because you are one year old at birth here, and I'll certainly never forget the 12th anniversary of my 14th birthday.
It was rather peaceful and one of the few times I didn't feel trapped by TaLK obligations. Another series of obligatory ceremonies took place at the end of regional orientation. I found it much harder to depart than Jochiwon for a number of reasons. First of all, a more close knit community was formed at English town of all places, and secondly we were all venturing into our independence instead of more orientation.
Q took me to the coastal city of Pohang, where I had to register as an Alien. The only reason this is worth mentioning is because of the picture process. They snap a passport style photo in about 15 seconds, then spend about 15 minutes touching up your skin, removing blemishes, and making you as white as they can. If you pay enough attention you pick up on the small daily examples of western obsession. Everyone in the west wants to be tan, and everyone in the east wants to be white. Most rappers want to be black. It's an ironic example of the general discontent that plagues most people. I just want to be like Karl.
We then traveled to my Elementary school to meet other teachers, the Principal, and Vice Principal. I introduced myself using Korean, but squeeked badly, I mean baaaadly, in the middle of a long phrase. I must have perfectly timed my voice change with the right inflected syllable because they all understood what I was saying.
After the meeting we traveled to my apartment, before sitting down for a traditional Korean meal. They then gave me the keys, showed me the bus station, and cut me loose.
In all fairness, my situation is very much along the lines of what I signed up for. I have a modest kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and balcony, on the second floor of a small building mostly occupied by families. The only complaint is that the toilet practically touches the wall, leaving no leg room. I have adopted a straddle method that may or may not continue when I return home. It's quite comfortable and easy to read. Try it.
Now back to what I began to mention about Korea and the TaLK program sometimes throwing people for a loop. Some scholars are currently in Jeju, a southern island known as Korea's Hawaii. They live in brand new buildings, with hot-tubs, flat screen tv's, and tons of their friends in the same building. These people get stipends to travel to and from the island. Others, like my fellow Uljin scholar, have apartments like the one pictured below, with no internet and minimal access to a bus. Some have hour long commutes daily, or are expected to be at school all day and on the weekends. Most, including myself, are somewhere in the middle of this spectrum and have no reason to complain.
In a short month I've learned to drop all expectations because you truly don't know what you're going to get on a daily basis.
Today was a Korean national holiday, celebrating a 17-yeah old girl's efforts to initialize a revolution that would eventually bring Korea independence from Japan. I spent this day exploring Uljin, and found out that this place has much more to offer than I anticipated.
During my travels I stumbled upon a market that is open every 5th day, and here I found a couple unique seafood items.
He speaks of an English club that takes place weekly in the cafe I'm currently in, and of a dog meat soup restaurant around the corner. The club generally begins with conversational English open to anyone in town, and generally ends with a trip to the Noraebang. I am growing more eager to explore this place with each anecdote.
Even with a bit of teaching experience, I am reasonably apprehensive about independently teaching children who may never have heard English. The great thing about kids is that they universally transcend the cultural and lingual barriers most adults succumb to, and reminding myself of this keeps me at ease. I was going to make a Jerry Sandusky joke next, but I also reminded myself that Donna Goserud reads this blog. I guess what I'm trying to say is I hope all of my students end up like this one.
I'd love to keep writing, but English club is evolving around me.