Singing Bus Driver

I got on the bus like very other morning and braced myself for motion sickness. I put my seat back, closed my eyes, and began controlling my breathing. I also found it helpful to let my mind wander to a peaceful scene as a distraction from the horrors of the trip. But this morning, something different happened; I heard singing.

It started very softly at first, and gradually increased in strength as the tempo quickened. Before I knew what was happening, he was belting out a Korean opera song at the top of his lungs much to the enjoyment of the half-a-dozen old women on the bus. As he sang, he kept looking back in the mirror, and occasionally pointing at one of them with a quick wink. He was clearly flirting, and they loved him for it.

His voice was absolutely amazing. The resonance on the inside of the bus didn’t do him justice, but I’m sure if he were on stage he’d have a sold out crowd.

I obviously wasn’t paying attention outside because by the time I realized where we were, we had already passed my stop. It didn’t matter. I got off at the next stop and walked the ten minutes back down the road to my school with the songs still resonating in my head.

Thank you mister bus driver for saving me a morning of pain.

I hope we meet again.

 - Ken 

Buying Baking Powder

Today proved to be one the most fun days I’ve had since I’ve been here. And it all started with a shopping list…

I had the day off school (the kids had medical check-ups), so I slept in. When I woke up, Jess had already left. I got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom and along the way, I noticed a small piece of paper with some writing on it, laying on the dining room table. I stumbled over to it, and found a list of groceries with an “I love you” at the bottom. Jess will argue that it was, “just there in case I had nothing to do and wanted to go out shopping” but we all know what that means. So I took my shower, got my shoes on, and took off to the store.

As I walked to the store, I looked down at the list to see how hard of a task I had been put up against. I didn’t know any of the words in Korean, so I immediately booted up the “charades” program in my head and got ready to have some fun.

I entered the store with a cheery “An nyoung hasaeyo!” and began my hunt.

The sugar, flour, and eggs were dead simple to find on my own, but I hit my first snag with the butter. They didn’t have sticks and I couldn’t tell the difference between the cream cheese, dip, and butter containers. So I grabbed one of each and walked up to the counter and asked, “butter isoyo?” (where is the butter?). She smiled and pointed at one of the containers. I found out later that “butter” is “buttah” in Korean, so she had no problem understanding what I was looking for.

I thanked her and brought the other containers back to the shelves.

The next item on my list was baking powder. I walked to the section where I thought it would be and found dozens of small packages containing white powder with similar labels. Let the charades begin…

I returned to the counter to find several small kids buying popsicles. One spotted me, and immediately ran outside and yelled something about a “waegook” (foreigner) to her other friends. Within seconds, a small audience had formed. The shopkeeper smiled at me as I began my show:

I mimed out a rectangle on the counter and said “bbang” (which I knew to be “bread” in Korean). I pretended to mix in the sugar, flour, eggs and buttah as she nodded her head in understanding. The kids just stared and giggled. The next step was tricky. I pretended to add a “mystery” ingredient, mimed the bread expanding, looked at my “mystery ingredient” (my empty hand) and said, “isoyo?” (do you have it?). She laughed, looked at me, and said, “baking powdah?” I burst out laughing and said, “neh, neh, neh, baking powdah!” (yes, yes, yes, baking powder!). She opened the cash register, pulled out some money, handed it to one of the little girls and told her something in Korean. The little girl took the money and sprinted out of the store. Literally 20 seconds later, she ran back in the store huffing and puffing with the baking powder in one hand, and the change in the other. As she handed me the bag, I looked at her and said, “camsa hamnida!” (thank you!). This immediately made all of the kids laugh, and they disappeared out of the store as quickly as they had first appeared.

Mission accomplished.

- Ken

The Bus Ride of Death

I’m not usually one to get car sick. I love speed, adventure, and the feeling of an adrenaline rush, but one thing I can’t stand is the bus ride to and from school every single day. In the beginning it was kind of exciting, but now all I want to do is teleport to where I have to go. I don’t know why (I suspect it’s the combination of speed, blind corners, steep cliffs, and total disregard for passenger comfort), but I’ve been getting sick nearly every single day since I arrived. I haven’t thrown up yet, but I’ve come close on several occasions. The nausea usually dissipates by lunch time, but my mornings are hell. When I come home at the end of the day, I usually have to sit down and relax for at least thirty minutes before I can eat, drink, or even think.

I hope I get used to the trip soon…

- Ken

Thousandwonerama

You know what this place needs? A Korean version of a Dollarama. A thousandwonerama. If this teaching gig doesn’t work out for me, I’ll open one.

Jess and I were each given $300 as a “settlement allowance” for getting our house up and running for the year. This may sound like a lot, but when you have to get your house up and running, the money disappears very, very quickly.

Thankfully, our co-teachers withdrew the money from Jess’ account and did most of the shopping to save us the trouble. Buying home essentials can be quite difficult when the only store in your town is a convenience store, and since we don’t have a car, carrying furniture from 30km away would be impossible.

Jess’s allowance was gone before we even arrived, but I still had mine. I easily pimped out my apartment in Montreal with fifty bucks at Dollarama, so I thought I’d be able to save at least some of my remaining allowance.

One quick trip to the supermarket later, it was gone.

Before coming to Korea, I thought that I’d be able to find everything for much cheaper than in Canada. I was very wrong…

Prices vary tremendously from city to city, store to store, but this is what I’ve noticed so far:

Cheaper:

• 
  
  Snacks! All cookies, chips, candies, dried seafood etc. are unbelievably cheap.


• 
  
  Local produce (especially apples, rice, and peppers)


• 
  
  Soju

More expensive:

• 
  
   Everything else

Ok, maybe this isn’t wholly accurate, but I’m still a little ticked off.

For my next trick, I’m going to make money disappear!

• 
  
  2 Pillows : $20.00


• 
  
  1 Sheet: $76.00


• 
  
  1 Bead Spread: $46.00


• 
  
  1 Pair of Scissors: $4.00


• 
  
  1 Cutting Board: $10.00


• 
  
  1 Frying Pan: $14.00


• 
  
  1 Pot: $32.00


• 
  
  2 Cups: $8.00


• 
  
  4 Teaspoons: $4.00


• 
  
  1 Knife: $4.00


• 
  
  2 Forks, 2 Chopsticks, and 2 Spoons: $18.00

*POOF!

- Ken

First Day at Gucheon Middle School

Having successfully endured the first few days of teaching at my first school, I was confident that my first day at my second school was going to be even better. I had absolutely no idea where I was going, what the school would be like, what my classes would be like, what I would be teaching… But at this point, it didn’t matter.

My second co-teacher, Sunny, picked me up at 8:30. At first, we sat in silence as I stared at hills passing by. Having been thoroughly surprised at how few students there were at my first school, I broke the silence and asked,

“Sunny, Bunam Middle School doesn’t have many students. Is Gucheon any bigger?”

She looked at me and smiled. It was the same smile I saw on Mrs. Jeon’s face when she told me Bunam had a total of eighteen students.

“Yes,” she said. “Gucheon is much bigger. We have twenty-three students. Two in middle school one (grade 7), eleven in middle school two (grade 8), and ten in middle school three (grade 9)”.

I just sat there and smiled.

We pulled up to the school, drove across the dirt field, and pulled up to the main building. There, a line of teachers stood in silence, waiting for me to step out. I took a deep breath, and opened the door.

We went through the usual bow-and-handshake drill, followed by a few exchanges of words (I didn’t wait for “speech time” at this school. I just busted out the Korean right away). They led me inside, showed me my desk, and immediately returned back to work. No meetings, no tour, nothing. I could see right away that they wanted to talk to me, but it was obvious that they were nervous. In Korean culture, there is an unbelievable amount of emphasis on image and reputation. Therefore most people will choose to remain silent, rather than try to speak for fear of making a mistake. We had been warned about this type of anxiety during our orientation, so I tried my best to break them out of it.

“Um, sorry to disturb you,” I started (and immediately received the full attention of everyone in the room), “but I was wondering if someone could show me where the bathrooms are.”

Instantly, four of the male teachers got up and insisted on bringing me there together.

It was right next door.

Instead of going back to the teachers lounge, they waited for me outside of the bathroom. When I came out, they asked me to follow them on a walk. They showed me the classrooms, the physical education room (which had couches and a couple ping-pong tables), the library, and the science room. The bell rang as the tour came to an end, and I was escorted to my first class.

As I previously mentioned, my grade 7 class has only two students. I knew this as I walked up to their classroom, but what I didn’t expect was how funny it was going to look.

I walked into a full-sized classroom that was completely bare except for two desks side-by-side in the dead center of the room. The two students stood at attention beside their desks in silence and stared at me. I smiled at them, wished them good-morning, and they sat down in silence.

I knew right away that I wasn’t going to be able to teach them with this particular classroom layout, so I walked over to their desks and pulled them up to mine. At first, they looked a little stunned at what I did, but the fear quickly turned to excitement. I sat down at our newly formed group of desks, and opened up a discussion. It didn’t take long for them to realize that I wasn’t here to flunk them out of school; I just wanted to talk. The class flew by as we talked about my trip to Korea, my favourite foods so far, and of course, my favourite Korean pop artists (Jess knows all-too-well my love for K-Pop music).

Next class was a spare, so I returned back to the teachers lounge only to find it empty. I heard noises from outside, so I headed out to investigate. The teachers were sitting at a table, coffees in hand, watching the kids carrying huge bags over their shoulders towards the tennis court. It may sound like child labour, but the smiles on their faces said otherwise. The boys were trying to show off for the girls by carrying two bags at a time, and the gym teacher helped by piling the bags into the corner. Once they were all piled up, he pulled out a knife, slit them open, and poured the contents all over the ground. I turned to Sunny and asked what they were doing, and she told me that they were salting the court to harden it. Several times a semester, they order in huge bags of salt, pour it all over the dirt, spread it out with rakes, and water it down. When the court dries, they have a hard surface on which to play tennis. It was simple and effective; yet another example of Korean ingenuity.

The following two classes ran very smoothly using my PowerPoint introduction. I could see how excited they were to meet me, and I hoped that they understood just how excited I was to meet them. 

My day ended with a huge surprise. I walked to my “extra” class in the library (all levels participate) only to find my students smiling at me from behind snack-filled tables. Sunny told me that the students had each chipped in a bit of money, and during lunch time some of them had biked out to the store to pick up snacks for a welcoming party.

We ate, talked, ate some more, and before I knew it, the bell signaled the end of another awesome school day. 

- Ken

First Impressions - Hyeondong Middle School

(Oh goodness…I’m going to have to teach these classes old school…)

***

Out in the parking lot of Andeok School, he was waiting for me. Mr. Yu, my Hyeondong co-teacher, was biding his time, slowly pacing, back and forth. If I hadn’t been walking towards him directly, I’m sure that he wouldn’t have noticed me…me being Korean and all.

The first thing I was told before meeting Mr. Yu was that Hyeondong was a hagwon – a private school. My first thought was, “Oh god, those kids are going to run my buzz right into the ground. My lessons are constantly going to be disrupted by the students... They’re not going to listen to me at all… I should’ve worn something else to make me look scarier.” The gossip I had heard about hagwons was not at all encouraging. However, as was the case about much of the ‘water-cooler’ gossip I had heard many times before – I was dead wrong.

This school had the same appeal as the others when I first laid eyes on it…the same solid, dusty ground…the same neutral pastel coating its external walls. There were also some nice potholes spread out all around the field, which I thought would be a joy on which to play soccer.

I quickly made an impression with the ten teachers and administration at the school, and then Mr. Yu led me up to the English lab. My, my, my…where had I seen those posters, desks, textbooks and the tiled phrase ‘Practice Makes Perfect?’ All schools must’ve ordered from the same English Lab distributor. I recognized the rolling blinds with pictures of the Bukingham Palace guards, the Sydney Opera House and Niagara Falls, way too many times. The almost-untouched, cherry-wood-paneled room soon filled with students sporting baby-blue Hyeondong windbreakers. So, I began my day once again, introducing the class to Niagara Falls and Montreal.

When it came to my first scintillating question for the students – and this is the best part – about two-thirds of them pulled out electronic dictionaries/computers, taking about thirty seconds to type in unknown words, read descriptions, and provide me with an answer. Only as a teacher did I come to the realization of how annoying electronic dictionaries could be. The situation reminded me of my Calculus years in High School, where it was forbidden to use any calculators.

I didn’t want to pull their only comfort away from them on the first day. I stressed how much they’d learn in class, if only they would use their heads, rather than their glimmering, white-enameled magic boxes.

After a few more questions, the students seemed to get it into their heads how quickly they could understand my question with just a couple of hints in Korean. They were as bright and endearing as the darling students at my other two schools.

***

Lunch, again, was a little different. I was happily served by the students I had taught, and I comfortably sat across from Mr. Yu. I noticed almost immediately, that I was the only female teacher at my end of the table. The other ladies were seated at the opposite end, quietly chit-chatting, and giggling. Since I was with the male teachers, I had about three minutes to open my gullet wide and shovel-in my food. I didn’t move an inch…I thought I was butch enough to sit next to them.

After losing in the ‘Who Can Eat the Fastest?’ contest, Mr. Yu and I peacefully strolled back up to the school’s main building. On the way, he casually asked, “At your other schools, do teachers sit next to students during lunch?”

“Sometimes...” I replied. “Usually, there isn’t very much room, so the teachers will sit in a group, with the students seated next to them.”

“Strange. So the male and female teachers sit together?”

“Yes, they do.” I confirmed. Up until this point in the conversation, I thought his questions were merely in passing, but he continued.

“Wouldn’t you like to sit with the female teachers?”

“Oh. Of course I would like to sit with them.” I answered. I guess I really wasn’t man enough to join the male circle…yet.

***

The sun-kissed afternoon went by quickly as I taught my remaining classes, ending with a hilarious ‘Activities Class’ where students excitedly showed off their betting skills (They’re only 12-14 years old!).

At the close of my first day at Hyeondong, I headed out with Mr. Yu to the bus station, taking in the delicate breeze kissing my cheeks, and gently brushing my hand across the fuchsia, pink and pearly white Cosmos flowers. When we finally made it to the blushing red, apple-printed Cheongsong bus, he gave me a final farewell for the week, and I gracefully stepped onto the bus that was headed for home.

- Jess

First Impressions – Hyeonseo Middle and High School

“Have you had enough?”

***

As I eagerly awaited to be picked up for my first day at Hyeonseo Middle and High School, I couldn’t help but be antsy. I had had enough instant Maxim coffees (in cups the size of shot-glasses) to outdo a cow.

As the sliding door of the teacher’s lounge rolled open, a small, daintily-figured woman stepped into the teacher’s lounge and glided straight up to my desk. She introduced herself as Mrs. Bak, a highschool teacher and my co-teacher at Hyeonseo School for the year.

***

As we traveled the roads towards Hyeonseo (-seo meaning East), Mrs. Bak kindly asked, “Did you know that Cheongsong is famous for its apples?” I laughed inside of my head. “Oh no,” I replied in a curious tone that begged for a more elaborate explanation. So it happened. I listened intently again, to the same apple story.

 ***

At our destination, Hyeonseo Middle and High School rose up from the dusty ground. As Mrs. Bak quickly pulled into her parking spot behind the school (Koreans are fast but instinctual drivers), I noticed again (as I always do), the abounding number of white and silver cars that seemed to be the shades of choice across most parts of Korea.

We entered the teacher’s lounge, and I was quickly greeted by all of the teachers. I received their names and teaching subjects all at once, and was quickly asked by all, “So, do you remember my name?” I think I have a short-circuit in my brain whenever it comes to memorizing Korean names, so the task of memorizing twenty Korean names in thirty seconds was a little more difficult than I had anticipated.

I was led to my desk, which was coupled with the snack table right next to it – wonderful. The teachers quickly made me a coffee, sliced two whole apples and handed me a bowl full of walnuts (that they had broken open with the end of a large butcher’s knife…Koreans, eh?).

***

Second period (my first class) was about to begin, and I was bubbling with anticipation. I was ready to wow the students with the grandeur of Niagara Falls (or Niagara Po-Po in Korean) and the exquisiteness of Montreal. I was ready to answer their questions and have them laugh with me…and at me :).

***

At lunchtime, I was hungrily waiting to eat and I looked on with sheer joy at the food in the cafeteria line – tang-su-yook (honey-glazed, battered pork), spiced sausage slices in a delectable crimson hot sauce, little bitty eggs in soy sauce, glazed-soy sweet potatoes, and fried rice. Oh goodie, goodie, goodie :). I was able to stop drooling by the time I reached the front of the line. As I held out my metal tray, my intense hunger was silenced by the kilogram of rice placed onto my tray (at Hyeonseo, you don’t serve yourself :S). My eyes seemed to get bigger and bigger as I shuffled down the line, and a heap of food was deposited onto my tray (which was gaining weight considerably quickly). Being the welcomed Westerner, I seem to invite my body weight’s worth of food at both Andeok and Hyeonseo school.

I had had one day to practice at Andeok (thankfully), so I was able to finish my lunch only five minutes after all of the teachers were done. They had all stayed behind, however, to ask me countless questions about my life, my background, and to tell me about their lives. I had tried to talk, chew, and swallow through the entire exchange between teachers. After I had finished my glorious meal, Mrs. Bak softly asked, “Have you had enough?”

I thought she was testing me, or making a joke (…I would’ve laughed), but none of the other teachers even snickered. At Andeok School, I tried to pull off jokes, but they haven’t worked out quite to my advantage. I’ve decided to stop causing confused stares and awkward moments by ceasing my attempt to be a comedian.

***

Be weary of students who have parents owning apple farms. It’s apple harvesting season, and wow, “Did you know that Cheongsong is famous for its apples?”

I’ve received over 30 apples from students and teachers, but this day takes the cake so far. Mrs. Bak came to my desk today, holding a heavy bag of something. Guess what it was…a bag of about 15 apples. Thank-goodness I love apples.

Once again, I bedazzled the middle and high school students with the many wonders of Canada, and my day was complete. Mrs. Bak drove me back to Andeok, curiously asking me questions about my classes, and I couldn’t stop talking. With the scorching sun beaming through the windows, draining my energy, the only finishing touch I could make on our conversation was, “They’re diamonds in the rough, they are. One of a kind.” And my first experience at Hyeonseo School ended just like that – with a warm, but confused, “Diamonds in the rough?” from Mrs. Bak as she drove away.

- Jess

First Impressions – Andeok Middle and High School

Shock. Surprise. Giddiness.

A 6-minute stroll down a path through sweet-smelling apple orchards, red chilies, green snap-peas and chocolaty-brown cows, eventually brings me to my main school…

Andeok Middle and High School stands magnificently on a dusty solid area of earth, with an insanely large soccer field, tennis court and separate gymnasium. Divided into two floors, this school definitely trumps my high school back in Canada. With a massive student population of one hundred and fifteen, there are eighteen hard-working teachers with enough composure to keep the school’s students in line.

The English resources at my disposal seem to be more useful for me than for the students. The ‘English Labs’ are decked-out with tons of recent American DVDs, novels in plain ol’ English, numerous English textbooks, and Korean-English dictionaries (although I doubt that most of these materials have been used more than once). I will have to carefully take those DVDs out of their sealed packaging and take them for a spin :).  

You hear about native English teachers being suckered into doing loads more than their contract states. However, I didn’t expect to be teaching both middle and high school. I had heard from a friend during the EPIK Orientation that she was to teach in THREE schools. At that time, I could only imagine the horror of traveling back and forth between them, hastily scurrying like a mouse to get from one to the other.

That was the LAST situation I wanted to be in for my one year of teaching.

***

This is the breakdown I received on my first day from Young-Hee (my Andeok co-teacher):

Andeok Middle and High School

• Middle School Grades 1-3


• High School Grades 1-2


• 3 Teachers’ Classes

Hyeonseo Middle and High School

• Middle School Grades 1-3


• High School Grades 1-2


• 3 Teachers’ Classes

Hyeondong Middle School (Hagwon)

• Middle School Grades 1-3


• Supplementary Class


• Teacher’s Class

***

When I first looked at my schedule, I think I went brain-dead for a split-second. Thank-goodness I recovered, because I managed to save myself from embarrassment by pulling up a smile with what little spark I had left in my brain. Actually, after observing my first class of students in their natural habitat I couldn’t be happier. I say natural habitat, because apparently, the only thing these students do, is STUDY. Now I could crack the whip onto ALL of my students. Muahhahaha… The more little kiddies, the merrier.

I heard through the grapevine that Korean students, especially the older ones, were notorious for keeping quiet in class. They were afraid of giving the wrong answer to a question and making mistakes. Well, that depiction was blown to pieces when I asked the first question to my second grade high school students, receiving in return about a million guestimates as answers.

That afternoon, as I was sitting in the teacher’s lounge and creating my lesson plans, I heard a sudden whisper from the female teachers as one of them entered the room. I felt a tinge of worry as one of them walked straight up to my desk and handed me something…a pink origami heart? I was a little confused, but to say the least, I thought it was a kind gesture of friendship from the teacher. She slowly spoke, “Me, no English. Not good. Mrs. Na! Here.”

She spoke to Mrs. Na at a quick pace, and I smiled as I managed to pick up everything she said. A boy in third grade high school had made me a pink origami heart to seal his crush on me, and Mrs. Na confirmed it. Oh boy.

***

My second day at this school was again, quite lovely. After comfortably meeting the school’s principal the day before, I was informed that he had left, and that there was a new principal taking his place (apparently they are obliged to rotate schools every few years).

There was a large assembly in the gymnasium for the schools new leader – my new boss. As I entered, I quickly received plenty of smiles, double-glances, and stares, which were then followed by a faint blanket of whispering. The students were standing in perfectly straight rows (one for each grade), and the male teachers stood silent while the female teachers quietly gossiped near the back wall. The head teacher introduced the principal and then introduced me. Being Korean-Canadian, Mrs. Na thought it would be best to speak in English when introducing myself to everyone. As I got up on the stage, I felt like the gymnasium’s flood lights were going to make me sweat. “Hello teacher!” I heard from the pool of students. I quickly introduced myself: my name, my age (23 – which made the students gasp…and giggle), what country I was from, and the fact that I was a Korean-Canadian (that one elevated their whisper to a chatter). As the principle silenced them (already shining in his new position), I told the students how excited I was to teach them English. I finished by asking them if they liked games, and walked off the stage to the exclamations “Games? Games!”

***

I think I’m rather lucky to have my home school be as wonderful as it is. Again, through the EPIK Orientation, I heard that there are unlucky native English teachers who have the misfortune of unhelpful co-teachers. It’s hard to imagine being able to speak barely any Korean and trying to make it on your own - especially without receiving help from a Korean co-teacher who knows at least some English. I’m thankful and relieved to have such a selfless and English-literate co-teacher like Young-hee (who has helped Ken and I with everything, from figuring out our transforming washing machine to ordering gas at night for our stove…not to mention answering all of my bajillion questions without a hint of annoyance). I’m grateful to have such gracious teachers who always manage to keep snacks on my desk at all times (and I MUST eat every little crumb, every little grape, every sweet slice of apple, and every piece of sticky ddeok – just to be polite). Saying ‘No-thank-you’ is difficult for me when it comes to food. I always try to graciously refuse my students’ chocolate bars and other lunch snacks, but they insist I take them and force them upon me :).

***

I love this school. The students really are enchanting. And it is always nice to hear, “Beautiful girl! Beautiful girl!” from the same boy, in the same window, every morning and afternoon, as I walk by the school :).

- Jess

First Day at Bunam Middle School

My co-teacher, Mrs. Jeon, picked me up outside our house to leave for school at 8:00. As we drove off, I felt like I should be getting nervous. But I wasn’t. I was so excited that it completely overpowered any trace feelings of nervousness in my body.

Mrs. Jeon and I talked about life, the universe, and everything as we rocketed up and over the mountains towards Bunam. The best way that I can describe Korean driving is as such: Do you remember when you were a kid flying around a winding racetrack in a go-kart? Well, it’s like that, but a bajillion times more dangerous. It seemed as though the lines in the roads were simply for decoration, and the signs were merely suggestions. I’m not saying that she was a bad driver. She was just really, really…adventurous.

Korean drivers seem to rely a hell of a lot on their instincts. My “spidy-sense” was tingling non-stop, but she seemed perfectly at ease flying around a left-hand turn in the left (oncoming) lane without being able to see if anyone was coming. If I were to die at any point during the trip, at least it would be quick.

As we approached our final destination, she pointed into the distance at a series of concrete buildings surrounded by farmers’ fields.

“There’s your school,” she said. “Beautiful, yes?” she continued.

The school was EXACTLY the way I pictured it would be: A small cluster of concrete buildings, a dirt playground, apple orchards on either side, and a single South Korean flag waving proudly over the front entrance.

We pulled up to the gate, drove across the dirt playground, and parked beside the flag. As I got out of the car, the first thing I noticed was how many pairs of eyeballs had just appeared in the windows. Initially, it was a little unnerving, but seconds later I saw who the eyeballs belonged to as students poured out of the buildings to take a closer look. Some were brave enough to shout “Hello!” but most continued to stare as I walked with Mrs. Jeon into the main building.

I asked her how many students attended the school, and she gave me a little smile and said, “You have six students in middle school one (grade 7), three for middle school two (grade 8), and nine for middle school three (grade 9).”

“Eighteen students total? In the whole school?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “We also have a technical high school for computer technicians and auto mechanics, so you will also teach them English as an extra-curricular activity. But they don’t have books, so we just want you to play games, talk, and if you can, make them talk.”

It was 8:30. We had arrived just in time for the weekly teachers meeting. We were the last to arrive, so once again I had the pleasure of being “oogled” by a large group of Koreans. It was slightly intimidating to be standing there in front of my new co-workers, but their smiles and attempts at speaking a few English greetings put me right at ease.

I sat down and listened as they continued the meeting for 15 minutes or so. All of a sudden, they all turned and looked at me in unison. They had warned us during orientation that this could happen, so when it did, I knew exactly what I had to do: a speech.

I stood up, cleared my throat, and began:

An nyoung haseyo (Hello)

Ne iroomun Ken imnida (My name is Ken)

Juhneun hangook nairo soomool set sal imnida (I am 23 years old)

Juhneun Canada ehsuh wahsoomnida (I am from Canada)

Mannasuh bangap soomnida (Nice meeting you)

Kamsa Hamnida (Thank you)

I finished the speech with a bow, and instantly received a roaring applause and a standing ovation. Wow, all I had to do was memorize a short speech that was on a cue card in my pocket and they made me feel like a superstar. As it turns out, they were just expecting a quick “hello” and a bow, so when they heard Korean coming out of my mouth they could barely contain themselves.

It was time for my first class. Mrs. Jeon led me to the English classroom, and as soon as it came in sight, my jaw dropped to the floor. I couldn’t believe the amount of money they had put into constructing their English lab. It had a huge collection of books, DVDs, several computers lining the wall, beautiful furnishings, and last but DEFINITELY not least, a 72” touch screen monitor with surround sound speakers! This was going to be fun…

I had a mere 5 minutes to explore my new classroom before students started pouring in. They eagerly filled up the first few rows and came to a silence as soon as everyone was seated. Mrs. Jeon sat in the audience with everyone and eagerly watched as I stood in the front of the class.

Alone.

There it was. The nervousness. It stayed hidden from me the entire time until this point. I had no prep work, no lesson ideas, no understanding of Korean classroom dynamics… absolutely nothing. I cleared my head and began talking.

To be honest, I don’t really remember too much about that first class. I had way too much adrenaline running through my body. From what I can remember, I spent most of it introducing myself and talking about life in Canada. I tried my best to get the students involved in the discussion, but I was worried that they’d find it boring without any visuals. Before I knew it, the bell rang and class was over. They all stood up, bowed, thanked me, and left. Mrs. Jeon approached me and said that my presentation was awesome. She loved it, and the students loved it. Boy, was I relieved.

I had one hour before my next class, so I sat down at the computer and started pouring pictures and videos from Facebook into a makeshift PowerPoint presentation.

My second class was outstanding, and with the help of a few visuals, I had them glued to my presentation and dying to ask questions within minutes.

I taught five classes that first day.

Ouch.

At the end of the day, Mrs. Jeon complimented me on my teaching and said that she was really anxious to work with me for the year.

I couldn’t have gone home happier…

- Ken

Our First Weekend in Andeok

You can stare…it doesn’t make us feel uncomfortable ~

***

Our first two-and-a-half days in Andeok were quite a spectacle. Of course, everyone knew that two native English teachers were arriving in their town…but they still didn’t hesitate to stop their trucks and turn their heads to stare. They didn’t try to hide it. Both Ken and I were a major attraction – the biggest thing to hit the city since the first native English teacher arrived (only seven months ago).

On our walkabout through the village of Myungdang-ri, we made sure to take a peek at all of the major ‘hotspots’ – the three convenience stores, the post office, the bank, the bus station, and a few of Myungdang-ri’s village-renowned restaurants. At every place, I was greeted with a-mile-a-minute Korean which was laced with numerous questions and curiosities. However, my confused look didn’t give me away as a foreigner – it just made me look stupid. The Gyeongsangbuk-do dialect didn’t help either, in contrast to my upbringing in the Seoul-Korean dialect. Back home, I was scrutinized by older folk for my lack of Korean speech (little did they know how much Korean I could speak), but here in Andeok, I’m experiencing my own little hangul-hakkyo (Korean language school), without the wooden slap-stick (just kidding!). I’m spewing out Korean words as if the language has been gestating inside of me for the past 23 years!

 ***

A note to all who have just purchased a Korean washing machine – watch out! These uncanny packages of nuts and bolts have the ability to speak and have the strength and power to shred your clothes! I feel as though one day I’ll hear sounds from outside the bedroom…of the washing machine transforming, and slowly pulling itself across the living room to the bedroom door… I know it wants to take my life…

***

Tomorrow is another day! Not just any day. It’s the first day we go to work, explore our schools, greet our delightful co-workers, and (eek!) meet our (hopefully) enchanting students :) .

- Jess

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Exploring Andeok

As we wound through the snakes of roads wrapped around the multitude of luscious mountains, we would ask our co-teachers from one town to the next, ”Ooooh, is this it?”. They’d murmur softly, “No, no…just a little bit further.” (My face quivered just a little) :S .

As the towns passed us by, each one following seemed a bit more miniature in size. However, the majestic mountains became more interwoven and lush, the red and green apple orchards seemed never-ending, and the number of persistent pools of red chilies drying on the roadsides seemed to indicate how small the area was becoming.

Finally we crossed a small bridge and entered a town made up of one main road. No flashing signs here. No hustle and bustle of students, everyday folk, and businessmen in this area (except for the old ajummas). No crazy nightlife in this small village called Myungdang-ri in the town of Andeok. The main road (measuring the entire village), takes about a 5-minute walk from one end to the other. And what separates our whimsical town of Andeok from others? Mountains. Dense, green, tree-covered mountains - not so easy to cross those on foot.

Our co-teachers were actually apologizing to us about the location of our residence. Ken and I wanted rural, and that’s exactly what we got…even if the area was too rural for many Koreans. At least we had the essentials: a convenience store, a post office, a local bank, and a few restaurants… but most importantly – a soju bar.

We rode Mrs. Jeon’s Korean-made jeep (using a pressurized gas instead of electricity or gasoline), finally making it to the foot of our home’s driveway. Suddenly, two boys on bicycles screeched to a halt in front of us…after seeing Ken (I imagine it was him) and bowed their heads like jackhammers. Through the window, I could hear them asking Mrs. Jeon (Ken’s co-teacher), “English teacher? English teacher?” As she nodded, they bowed even more fiercely, with enough force to cause a major migraine that I’m sure they felt later in the day.

We were shown into our house. It was probably one of the nicest houses in Myungdang-ri, standing exquisitely on the dusty concrete ground with its ruby-red brick coat. A house. We acquired a house.

***

We’ve decided to keep our house empty…I mean spacious. Our home is complete with a kitchen (no oven though…how am I going to bake my desserts?), living room, study room and master bedroom. Our voices and sounds echo with even the slightest of movements. Perhaps we should purchase one of those monstrous rice-popping cracker machines that Ken truly adores).

***

The number of Myungdang-ri residents in Andeok peaks at about 150 people, and having about 80 of them living in the retirement home across the street makes for a very tight-knit community. It’s nice to run into everyone pretty much everyday (although our necks are getting a little strained from bowing every few minutes :)).

“Did you know that Cheongsong is FAMOUS for its apples?” (Many Cheongsong English teachers will roll their eyes when you ask this question). I have heard this question, time and time again, from the townsfolk in Andeok, Hyeonseo and Hyeondong, and from my many co-workers at all three schools. I guess they don’t know about the apple orchards beside and behind my house, or about the numerous apple farms Ken and I both saw as we were first entering Cheongsong. Being an apple lover myself, I am always tempted to taste/steal the forbidden fruit from the neighbouring orchards. My mouth also constantly waters at the slight of lush date trees generously producing their fruit, red chili plants lining the apple orchards, vibrant green snap peas doubling the line of chilies, and the wondrous rice field in front of our house (Ken is continuously tempted to run through it…I guess it’s his choice whether or not he wants to drench himself in mud and have mosquito larvae caught in his leg hairs :). Oh Andeok… Our teaching contracts are signed in blood, so we’re here to make this place our lovely abode for one year.

Hey, did you know that Cheongsong is FAMOUS for its apples?

- Jess

Meeting our Co-Teachers

The bus ride from Jeonju University wasn’t at all what I expected it to be like.

Our new lives were about to begin. I had imagined an over-packed bus filled with bubbling newbie teachers, dying of excitement, reeking of anticipation. Open soju bottles, loud music, and enough energy to run a small village. Obviously, I lived in Montreal way too long…

We were finally finished our training, and the 10 long “death-by-powerpoint” days were showing in everyone’s eyes. The drive was a little over 2 hours long, and aside from the occasional announcement from our Province of Education leaders it was relatively quiet. I can’t speak for the others, but I was horribly exhausted. My batteries were done. I was tired of being “herded” around, over-saturated with information about what lay ahead for the upcoming year, and most of all, I was tired of living out of a backpack.

I don’t usually have a problem with living out of a backpack and not having a permanent bed. But this time, Jess and I were dragging close to 200 pounds of gear with us halfway around the world. Literally. There’s nothing I wanted more than to open them all up, spread my clothes everywhere, and not think about a backpack for a whole year.

2 hours went by quickly. We stopped in Gumi for a quick lunch, and took off again for a short drive across the city to meet our co-teachers. I wish I had taken a video of the scene as we pulled up.

Our Province of Education leader said it best:

“When I was in your position, pulling up in the parking lot to meet my co-teacher, I felt like a puppy at a pet store about to be adopted”.

She was absolutely right.

As our bus pulled up towards the parking lot, we were met by at least 50 very, very, very excited Korean people holding up signs, nameplates, or pictures. They stared, pointed, waved, and tried desperately to locate their Native English Teachers as our buses came to a halt.  

Within 5 seconds of exiting the bus, a small Korean woman approached me with a piece of paper with my name printed on it in size 108 font. She whisked me out of the crowd towards her car where several other teachers from my school were waiting for me. They approached me one at a time with a bow, a handshake, and a quick “nice to meet you”.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on the vibe that I initially received from them, but it seemed to be a mixture of awkward over-politeness, nervousness, and relief. They had worked extremely hard in preparation for our arrival, and everything had finally come together.

We picked up our luggage, hastily said our goodbyes to the many, many wonderful people we met during orientation, and took off towards our new home.

- Ken

Closing Ceremonies

Welcome to EPIK! (Part 2)

[Apparently a few hours later…]

My shining knight rushed into our dorm room and uncurled me from my fetal position. I had exhausted all of my strength distracting myself on his Nintendo DS and felt much more comfortable with my hands around my knees. Medicine! Finally! What a blessing in disguise…those white and yellow-black pills didn’t look too appealing at first, but within an hour, I was able to hobble around with wall- and bed-supports (and Ken’s bulging biceps).

Unable to go to the ‘Hanok Village – Keumsan Temple’ field trip, I fell asleep to Ken’s loud clamor and utter amazement at one rice-popping-cracker-patty machine he saw at Hanok Village. That’s all I can remember of that night…”Jess…look at this machine!” (me – “Oh cool!...uh huh….mm hmm…zzz…). Both the village and temple, two ‘must-sees’,  look beautiful (from what I have seen in Ken’s photos and videos).

The lectures the following day were once again positively marvelous, as the experienced English teachers gave us their all, informing and entertaining us bumbling novices. Being referred to as ‘Ken’s Sick Girlfriend’ also kept me in a light, cheery mood :).

On the last night of the orientation, all EPIK teachers were treated to Korean traditional music and dance (which is indubitably something to see…fast drumming and head-spinning for over 1/2 an hour straight!), and a feast (actually a feast) in an insanely large, glistening perma-tent was prepared for us (if only I had a bottomless stomach!).

***

The next morning, Ken and I gathered our things and headed out for the buses departing to the Gyeongbuk province. Our destination – Andeok (we were both a little worried…we couldn’t find the town on Google maps!). The Gyeongbuk crew loaded everyone’s luggage fittingly (like Tetris pieces) into the one luggage truck, and we made sure to squeeze the breath out of Polly and J.L. (our EPIK group leaders) in our hugs. Saying goodbye-but-not-farewell to the many teachers we befriended, we boarded our three-hour bus ride to Gyeongsangbuk-do.

I have to say, housing all 500 of us teachers, feeding our voracious bellies, and gathering such a fine group of down-to-earth native English speakers for 10 days, is wholly something to be applauded. Adieu EPIK, adieu! ‘Til we meet again!

- Jess

Meds for Jess

Jess was still sick when we returned back to campus from Hanok Village. I don’t want to bad-mouth the nurse on campus, but I was getting tired of her “go back to bed” and “keep taking your temperature” answers every time Jess managed to walk down to her office. She was an extremely kind woman, but she was obviously over-worked, stressed, and not qualified to administer the proper healthcare needed.

The final straw was when she gave Jess a hot water pouch and advised her to lay down with it on her abdomen. It sounded like a cozy solution, but I’m fairly certain that a nice warm environment was NOT a very good substitute for an antibiotic… Rather, it sounded more like a tropical paradise for the little buggers. Well, we gave it a try anyway. She laid back down in bed with the warm pouch on her abdomen, and two minutes later, lo and behold! She was in excruciating pain and curled up in the fetal position.

That was it. The final straw. It was my turn…

I probably should’ve looked into learning a few simple Korean words before venturing off by myself in search of some meds, but that wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.

My first stop was at the convenience store on campus. It’s not uncommon to find some symptom relief meds in Canada at a convenience store or a grocery store, so I tried my luck there first.

I approached the woman behind the counter, and did what I can do best in this country. I played charades. Now if you can just picture the “Pepto-Bismol” commercials, you’ll have a pretty clear image of what my dance looked liked…

Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach… well… you know the rest…

Aside from being hugely entertaining, it actually worked.

Her husband (who was originally stocking shelves when I walked in and quickly claimed first row seats when my show began) took off his work vest and beckoned me to follow him. I thought he was going to bring me back up to the campus nurse, but instead, he walked outside towards his car and opened the passenger door.

Now let me make this perfectly clear. Mom, if you’re reading this, I wouldn’t usually get into a stranger’s car. But I was desperate, Jess was sick, and he was smaller than me.

We drove off campus together and headed for downtown Jeonju.

Wow, what a place! The amount of blinking neon lights, strobes, and coloured spotlights on the sides of the buildings were more than impressive. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the chance to admire the view for very long as we arrived at our first destination. It was closed. He took off again in a different direction.

With his frequent stops at closed stores, and frustrated mumbles, I quickly pieced together that most (if not all) of the pharmacies were closed at this time on a Sunday night.

Finally, he slowed down at a small shop, peered inside, smiled, and pulled over to the side of the road. He had found one that was open.

We went inside together, and he described the situation to the pharmacist (I will call him a pharmacist, but to be honest, he could’ve just been an old man working at a drug store. I will never know).

He pulled two small boxes off the shelves, and sounded out the drug names to me. The first one was “eh-pu-pro-peh” which, with a little imagination, sounded like “ibuprofen” (Advil), and the other one had the medication names written in English on the back (all of which I recognized). Both boxes set me back a grand total of 4 bucks. Not bad at all. I thanked the “Pharmacist”, and we headed back to the University.

He pulled up to the front door of the dorm, pointed inside, and tried to rush me out of the car to bring Jess the meds. I thanked him over and over again as I walked backwards towards the elevators, and he yelled out, “Visit tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, yes I will,” I responded.

I arrived back at our room and gave her the meds.

The downward spiral was over.

The next night I kept my promise and visited the store. Both the husband and wife were working again, and their eyes lit up as I walked in with Jess at my side. We exchanged words of thanks, relief, more thanks, and I gave them a bottle of Mulberry wine that I had picked up as a souvenir from Hanok village on Saturday. Several bows later, we left the store, and headed back to the dorm.

…

Imagine yourself at a convenience store near your house. You ask one of the workers for a light bulb, but he doesn’t have any in stock. Instead of shrugging you off, he removes his work vest, drives you to Home Depot, speaks to the employees for you, walks through the aisles with you, finds the one you need, drives you back home, and in return, simply asks that you pay him a visit the next day to let him know if it worked or not. How many times has this happened to you?

This was my first.

- Ken

EPIK Field Trip

Jeonju University

Welcome to EPIK! (Part 1)

JEONJU UNIVERISTY… The Place for Superstars ~

Rewind a bit. Once Ken and I finally landed in Incheon International Airport (i.e. SOUTH KOREA), our journey wasn’t over quite yet. Since we were a day late into Korea, we had missed the shuttle bus providing rides to EPIK teachers to the orientation at Jeonju University. Luckily, one of the Teach Away Inc. representatives, Jessa, was right at the airport terminal and led us to purchase our bus tickets (a 3-hour ride to Jeonju, Jeollabuk-do). Now that’s dedication as a Teach Away recruiter.

***

Pretty much passing out on the bus, we finally arrived in Jeonju…but again, we hadn’t reached our final destination. Dropped off at the Jeonju Core Hotel, we had to take another 25 minute taxi ride to the university. Being a major city, the channel of flashing store signs along the strip gave us a moment of sobriety.

Finally at the university, we knew that our major problems were over. Us stumbling EPIK travelers were greeted with open arms by EPIK coordinators and finally we were exactly where we needed to be.

They coordinators greeted us with everything we had missed on the first day of the orientation – information books, nametags, pens, and thermometers so that we could take our temperature every morning.

Ken and I were both led to our dorm room, and it was a good thing no one else was staying in there – we both completely passed out and it probably wasn’t a pretty sight.

***

Flash forward to the next morning…wonderful Western food for breakfast with some dishes having a Korean twist to them. Bulgogi (marinated beef) with scrambled eggs, a healthy serving of kimchi…and some espicy side dishes providing a special Korean touch to the food. Ken grew particularly attached to the Seoul Milk that they were serving (it tasted more like cream though…1-part coffee, 9-parts Seoul Milk…mmm…Nick, Ken says you’d love this milk…too bad we can't ship any to you). Having missed the first day of the orientation, we went straight into the mini-lectures from experienced English Teachers in Korea (and man, these teachers were actually enjoyable to listen to). They represented the way teachers should teach in the classroom – lots of games to soak up the never-ending pool of energy from the students, and the idea of making a fool of yourself whenever you can to keep the students attentive (they are teenagers after all). What did we have to look forward to next? The medical checkup. We were stripped down to our bare-buttocks (for the chest x-ray of course), and measured in every way (height, weight, vision and hearing), but the worst part for me must’ve been the taking of blood samples.

The nurse was incredibly nice, so I had to hide my winces as she missed my vein, tried to find a new one, dug into the another vein, and decided to move to my left arm (of course, I had told her about my poor blood pressure in both of my arms). In my left arm, she found the best vein she could find – and that vein still required much jabbing and digging-around by the needle. Her worried look and frequent murmurs of “Am I doing this right?” to her supervisor made me a wee bit lightheaded has the blood-bag filled up in slow increments.

[6 hours later in our dorm room…right before we went to sleep…9:00pm…I started to feel hot…but no big…I thought it was just the humidity…]

[9 hours later…I woke up with a wonderful surprise…just on the brink of a fever…37.8^oC…]

Lead-headed, I went to see the EPIK nurse. Actually, I think I walked a straight line better in the delirious state I was in compared to every other day. I must’ve looked like normal, as I was resting my head on one of the vending machines near the nurse’s office. I had a pleasant three hours where I played “Don’t Sway and Look Like You’re Going to Vomit.” When I could finally see the nurse, she immediately took my temperature…and gave a nice little yelp – 39.4^oC. Swine flu anyone? 

Of course that’s what she thought at the time…I insisted that I thought it was an infection from the blood samples they had taken. “Sterile.” She told me, “Sterile.” I told her I had gotten an infection once before from blood being drawn and had the same symptoms, but she was convinced that that was not the case. She gave me a Tylenol and I pretty much stayed in the office, sitting in a chair while she was treating other patients, until supper. Before having a little supper, she thought about taking me to the hospital to have me checked by a doctor (Swine flu! Swine flu!). After supper, however, I visited her office once again, and my temperature had gone down to 37.8^oC. Okay, so maybe not Swine flu, but whatever this sickness was, it was moving through my system.

***

[Next day…]

Wow. Massive stomach pains. Whatever had sizzled my head was moving down, down, down. I managed to go see the nurse and tried explaining again that I thought I had an infection, but she was convinced otherwise. So, she gave me a hotpack for my stomach. After one minute…ooh the pain……Knock me out for a bit, take out my stomach! I was willing to do anything. Of course, there was Ken to my rescue, shining like a knight on his mighty steed, fed up, and determined to find some real medicine for his princess :).

- Jess

Stranded In Beijing