Log5: A Lesson and a Word on Identity

Just posted a new post, but here is another one with some other thoughts on a couple of things.
1. This week, the Korean Fulbright Commission (officially Korean-American Education Commission, or KAEC) is throwing a two-week English immersion camp to middle school and high school kids from around the country held at the same site.  This is of course mostly for the students, but it has also become a great training ground for us the ETAs.  As such we will be teaching our first classes to Korean students in these testing grounds with overall good students before we're throw into the real things.

The Temptations, 1964 (read on; there's a reason I posted this picture)

Tomorrow (er, in about 12 hours) I will teach my first lesson.  I have no previous formal class teaching experience and am a bit nervous about it; many of this year's grantees have substantial teaching experience, have done TFA (Teach For America) or even have actual teaching degrees.  Luckily I'm part of a good number who are total newbies to this teaching thing.  

However, I also know that there is a great performance aspect to teaching and as I have been thinking about it as more of a performance, somehow I've become more comfortable with teaching.  I'm really excited, actually; I'll try to put on a show for these kids, and try to keep them engaged for 50 minutes with a reasonable attempt at an improvised, interactive theater performance.  I loved my acting class last semester and have always felt reasonably comfortable on stage so the territory--at least in this light--won't really be all that strange.  I feel grateful to all my greatest, most influential and most memorable teachers because I've really been thinking back about them and what made their classes so memorable.

My first lesson is going to teach the students (English Language learners) about rhyme through the classic My Girl by The Temptations.  Luckily, this is a song that excites me a lot so at least I will have my enthusiasm to fuel me along, if not hopefully the other students as well.  If you listen to the songs, it's sheer poetry: I got so much honey the bees envy me, I've got a sweeter song that the birds in the tress... People don't write like that anymore!  Love it.  I'll let you know how it goes...

2. A quick note on my identity:  It has been a tremendous learning experience on a nearly revelatory level to be a Korean/Korean-American/America (I'm still grappling with all these different categories) back here in Korea.  We have been told to wear this name tag so that the orientation site university summer students and administrators can recognize that we are with Fulbright (aka foreigners).  Of course with those who are not Asian-American or Korean-American, that distinction can be made pretty immediately.  But that's not the case with us who hold such phenotypic similarities, or more colloquially, us "Asians."

Here's a funny anecdote (funnier if told in person): 

I enter the elevator on the 6th floor to get to the 2nd floor.  Several native Korean students are in there chatting it up.  They immediately notice my name tag, so naturally certain characteristics are attributed to me (as we all inevitably do as natural human beings in an effort to make sense of the situation and grasp the things we perceive); i.e. that I probably have no idea what they are about to say because, well, I'm a foreigner.  Of course no one seems to notice that I have the most distinctly Korean name among all us "foreigners," but if one did notice, he obviously did not care.  


We ETAs have been given CAPS keys, or all access-keys by the university for the duration of our stay as part of our dual protection under and abidance to both Korean and American laws (i.e. basic freedoms).  This CAPS key is a sacred privilege on this campus because the curfew here is 11PM for all university students; if students stay out past then, they will not be allowed back into the campus and will have to spend the night off campus.  


This happened to be the topic of this particular elevator ride, because I actually know a fair bit of Korean.  I can comfortably pass as a reasonable Korean, knowing basic linguistic sensibilities and colloquial idiosyncrasies of this difficult language.  But they didn't know that.


So they go off, swearing, cursing, dropping all kinds of F-bombs and cursing out the administrators for not giving them such access as well.  Admittedly, it was both rather amusing and disheartening to listen to.  After hearing them rant and spew diatribes, I stepped off the elevator before they since they were getting off on the first floor.  As I walked out with that I'm-trying-to-be-cordial pursed-lip smile, they say with the broadest most beautiful and radiant smiles on their faces, "Bye bye!!!" as if they had just met with the President.  It was incredible, the duplicity of their expressions; something I could not help but laugh and smile about of course.


But the moral of the story can be drawn out. 


I have felt a stringent and unyielding binary of my identity that I had not in such diverse settings as my home in northern California or at Pomona College.  Without the badge of foreignness (my Fulbright name tag), I am a Korean who is fluent, indistinguishable, and accustomed and attuned to all the traditions and histories and subtleties of this culture.  But as soon as I put that name tag of around my neck, I reveal my American identity, my alien and estranging veil.  I know, I know, I know this is a ridiculously absurd attempt at relating back to history, but my experience has become the closest thing to the Star of David that I'll hopefully ever experience because of the absolute authority with which that name tag has commanded the presuppositions and conceptions of others about my identity.  I would hope that if you are reading this now you know me well enough to know that I wouldn't make this comparison lightly or humorously or even without having considered the deep inadequacies of this vain analysis.  But I hope you can afford me your understanding as I try to negotiate myself in this vastly different context.


So many will say there can only be an advantage.  Perhaps, if one were to be a complete idealist blind to the defects of such a one-sided view.  Because there are costs to the immediate judgments that befall one, especially in a country that is so cosmopolitan and intrigued by the apparent, the visible.  There can be tremendous misunderstandings and huge things taken for granted by both parties which, if assumed without persuasion will only lead to hurt feelings and damaged relationships.


Thus ostensibly I can use my apparent dualistic identity as a tool, as a means to achieve near utilitarian limits.  And yet this seeming advantage can become the tool and means for others to gain and meet their needs, to take for granted the exhaustion and emotional wear-and-tear that results from the transformation between modes of identity and ultimately utilize my transmutable capacities for their own gain (i.e. "You can speak Korean, help me out here.") 


Look, there are a lot of subtleties to this argument I'm foregoing I know.  I know there are many things for which I must be grateful, and there are too many things to name.  I know this is an utmost privilege and should be cherished.  I do all of these things, genuinely and consciously.


I'm just saying that it can be difficult and tiring at times.

More to come; thanks for reading.


Best,
Yoon-Chan Kim

Log4: A Trip, a new CAC, and some Reflections

 Haeinsa Temple, Gaya Mountain

  This past weekend, we visited Haeinsa Temple on Gaya Mountain and had a relaxing break from the chaos of orientation.  Even our hotel had nice views.

 

The views from the 3rd floor of the hotel.  

Meredith, me, Olenka, Michelle and Jing; Meredith and I know Megan from Gunn H.S.  We all have been discovering just how ridiculously small this world is; another person I never met before knew my dad, and another one is really close to an old orchestra friend of mine.  Small, small small world.

Nida: she's quinta-lingual, if there is such a thing: English, Spanish, Japanese, Thai, Korean (she's Thai). Ridiculous. She said she doesn't count Korean as one, but I do because she was placed in the advanced class with all the other Korean Americans who grew up with that.  Filthy language skills.  Just filthy. 

Mafia in our hotel room. Clint (the African-American) is clearly not amused.  Josh (white shirt, laying on stomach on pillow in the foreground) is playing this adamantly; Pitzer 2010 graduate.  There are 4 other Pitzer students here; of the other 5C's, I am the only one.

Neil. He's by the chamber of woodblock prints.  They don't allow cameras there.  A note about people: I of course have only known these people for a few weeks, but it's really been interesting how generally amiable and good all these people are: fun, funny, genuine, kind and thoughtful.  What more could you ask for?  But maybe things will change in a few weeks...

Friday we visited the temple.  Saturday most of us went again because the Friday visit was a bit rushed.

Please.  This is a holy site.  Don't mess with it, or the angry turtle will hurt you.

Temple entrance.  I have to work on this smiling thing.

The central court and main sacred space.

I am thrilled.

Saturday.  This structure housed the central sacred space.

 

Jesse and Lara; two of the nicest people in orientation...though I don't know them that well.

 

View of the central court from the top the stairs.

One of the coolest aspects of the visit was the scenery.  Already tucked away in the depths of some thickly-lush mountains, the temple was couched in an immovable dense fog that rolled in and out at will.  The scene really was something out of a movie (which really doesn't make sense since movies are derived from the real stuff of life anyway).

To actually get to the temple though,we had to hike into the woods for about 15 minutes.  This was what one of the creeks we passed looked like on Friday without rain.

This is what the creek looked like on Saturday after an evening of rain.

Man of the hour.  Couldn't take pictures inside the sacred space, but the many doors were left open.  The statues proved extremely modest compared to what I had imagined for one of the nation's most famous temples.  About a third of the Korean population is Buddhist.  Another third is Christian, non-Catholic.

On Saturday we arrived at the temple just in time to witness some real monks chanting together.  The chanting moved me deeply (on a side note, I was told not to take pictures as soon as I took this; woops...snuck one in I guess).

To the right of the central sacred space were these two smaller "shacks" which also housed Buddhas.  There are Buddhas for different aspects of life and mind, and I assume each of them stood for one of these aspects.

On Saturday, this monk (you can see the sticks in motion) displayed a drumming tour-de-force as part of a weekly ritual.  This temple always wins friendly drumming competitions.

While the monk drummed, swarms of people (Saturday = weekend = more people come to the temple) walked through a maze.  I walked through it and it took maybe...3 minutes.  But before I entered, the person at the entrance said to us, "Enter with both your hands clasped, and please forget about everything."

The maze (Friday, when there was no one).

So what do I have to say about the trip?  A lot of it has been said in the new CAC (week 3), but it was first and foremost a nice relaxing break from the chaos and a great time to just reflect and bond with some of the other ETAs.  There are 73 of us, and in a gender-segregated dorm (strictly enforced by security cameras) with a really busy schedule and an absence of a decent common space, it's hard to get to know each other really well so it was a nice chance to just spend some time with people.

Other than that, it was a wonderful experience that recalled deeply my roots and my childhood.  I remember going to the temple as a kid in Korea not often, but enough for the memories to stick.  I remember the reverent ambiance that always seemed to reverberate throughout the temple halls, but I could not express what it was.  Not to say that I have the answer now, but I do believe that as with any religious or spiritual practice, much of the "enlightenment" or "divine understanding" comes from the ritualistic practices of complete devotion and commitment themselves, and never from the consequences of them.  

A simplified example is the bowing done at these temples (at least the Korean ones).  It is done grandly and with the entire body prone toward the great Buddha with a kind of religiosity that is not unlike other religious practices, and done many times (monks chant and bow 108 times together; witnessing was moving, but doing it I'm sure is a whole different issue).  And as I did numerous ones myself, I realized that it was during my routinized actions and whispering-to-self-of-old-chants-I-knew-by-heart from which I derived a sense of renewal, energy, and clarity.  It is thus the process, I believe, that seems so integral to all things we like to call ritual, because to stray from this process of introspection and mindfulness is too easy in such a highly extroverted and material world.

Okay enough of that though.  I'm going to post another post, but check out my CAC for more in-depth thoughts about the visit. 

I hope you're all well!

Log3: Race and a weekend Trip

Tomorrow we leave at 9:30AM to board the buses for a very long and winding road to a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Haeinsa.  A national Korean treasure, the a Buddhist temple in the mountains is the home to Tripitaka Koreana, the whole of the Buddhist Scriptures carved onto more than 81,000 wooden printing blocks which has been there since 1398 (supposedly the first ever even before Guttenberg).  Read more about it on Wiki here.

So I'll do the best I can, because it's 1:35AM here right now and I should really go to sleep very soon before the trip.  But I do want to at least mention a couple of things.

Understand that due to gender-segregated dorms (strictly segregated), the guys have become quite comfortable with each other.  Not sure how this serves a meaningful purpose to the following anecdote, but I'm sure a good liberal arts student can tie it back to this theme soon.  I just can't be that right now.


Clint is the one African-American male in the entire ETA contingent (3 Af.Americans in all).  He went to Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia and has been a great guy overall so far.  The guys have all gotten pretty close to each other already and have become comfortable enough already to start cracking jokes.

This was funny, and is supposed to be funny.  The following occurred, and is being retold, in good, but not trivial, jest.

Now understand that cafeteria food has been repetitive and bland, even if it's Korean food.  No one holds its quality against any individual human being, but the desirability to eat in has been diminishing over time.  Nearly every meal we just bite the bullet because the alternative is going to the village of a city and actually pay for a meal that is of limited variety, even if it's a bit tastier.


So lo-and-behold, we have what for dinner?  Fried chicken.  Fried chicken.  We are American-cuisine-starved group of Americans who have seen nothing remotely close to something other than bap (rice) and the staple kim-chi (spicy fermented cabbage).  Needless to say, we began to chow down.


Clint, the African-American shows up.  He gets excited by the chicken.  Then notices something that no one else noticed, which is that beside the tray full of fried chicken is a tray full of slices of watermelon.  He comes up and says, "Dude, I am so excited by this chicken.  But these workers were just trying, trying to get a reaction out of me." We laugh, Clint included; "How did they know to put the watermelon right next to the fried chicken?!  Come ON!" I ask him, "do you like watermelon too then?"  And he replied, "No I hate watermelon!  It's just water and...crap."  We burst out laughing, and he admits that "they got [him] with the chicken."  

I know there are serious issues underpinning this short moment from which many of us laughed.  It was of course a deep laughter, a less-than-comfortable one that embodied a tremendous obfuscation of historical, legal and social elements that have been embroiled in tension and injustice for centuries.  One could deconstruct this very moment with biting acuity and without mercy, and frankly a part of me wish I had some exposure to such modes of thought if only to learn about that mode of thought.  Books can and have been and will be written about these very moments, and I know that.  And I am one to acknowledge the significance of these problems and the kinds of questions these incidents raise, and in the right setting engage in these discussions.  But I am also one who picks his battles, and is willing to laugh every once in a while.

*sigh*

It was funnier at the time, that's all I'm trying to say.  I guess it really fails miserably on paper.


The other thing I wanted to mention is this name tag that we have to constantly wear and its influence on my experience as a Korean/Korean-American/American. 


(clearly) I am not very familiar with the politics of identity (distinct from "identity politics" which assumes the rigidity of identity rather than its fluidity and fluctuation), but I have been launched into the heart of this matter.  I knew this when I signed the contract about 2 months ago, but that the reality has been striking goes without saying.


But alas, this is for another post, because I do have to really go to sleep.


I'll take pictures at the temple and post them when I get back!  Hope all of you are well!

Log2: "CAC"s and the Dormitory

Alright, Tuesday 5:45PM and got some down time; unbelievable!

I've actually already been having "down time" for the past two hours, but had been working on 1. my first lesson plan and 2. this week's CAC, or "cultural adjustment check." 

As a means to make sure we are adjusting well, the orientation coordinators (henceforth the "OC"s) e-mail us a weekly set of questions we must answer via e-mail.  While they are a nuisance to many, they have actually allowed me to discover my deepest reflections upon my arrival and have provided me some time and space to just sit, absorb, and think.  So if you really want to know what I'm actually thinking about, then CACs might be the place to go.

I will continue to post these on the "Cultural Adjustment Check" page on the right.  Please feel free to read and comment!

------------------------------------

Thursday, July 14, 2010 1:56AM

Alright, so unfortunately it's been a long day and it will only get longer tomorrow, but I do know that I want to at least share what my room/dormitory situation looks like.

 

The marble-floored and marble-walled hallway.  This floor has all the men in the orientation.

 The dorm room.  My side is on the left, my roommate's is on the right.  The central marble divider has windows for late night sleep secrets...which we haven't exploited yet.  

 My side of the room.

The entire bathroom is used as a shower stall, much like in European hostels.  Such is the norm in Korean bathrooms.

The evidence: a drain under the sink.  Really unnecessary picture, I know, but thought I would share. 

Thanks for your patience. More fruitful reflections will come soon.

Log 1

Well, this is overdue.

Hello everyone, and welcome! This is my first official blog post of my year-long trip to Korea!

Since the moment our plane landed in my birth country on Sunday July 4, 2010 at 5AM - exactly one week ago - we have not had a moment's rest. We dove straight into language tests, language classes, speeches, teaching and cultural workshops. Needless to say, these past seven days have felt more like seven months.

There are 73 of us at this 7-week orientation, and I have met some tremendous people from all over the country, including Georgia, Montana, California, Boston, Oregon, and others. Many are recent graduates of college, including Harvard, Brown, Scranton, Pitzer, Georgia, USC, Illinois Urbana-Champagne, and Williams.

We are in Goesan of Chungcheongbuk do (region), a tiny rural city 3 hours south of the metropolis Seoul. Our orientation camp is being held at Jungwon University, a brand-new decadent structure that looks (and acts) a lot like a product of Pyongyang (capital of North Korea).

I'm sorry I can't say more for now, but today was our first real "break" day when we had some time to breathe. So I went on a hike with some of the Fulbright people, and here are some pictures to give you a sense of where I am (the hike was 5minutes walking distance from our school):


Our Hike! L->R: Janine, Erik, Ji-Soo (Jungwon student), David



Our Hike2



The view from the top...with me (the others got real pictures, so I'll upload them when I get them; the school is behind the high rise apartment on the right behind my head)



The barren street (the car is parked)



The other side


Drawing penises in unexpected locations seems to be a universal practice


Jungwon University sign and gate


Through the gate


The school


The ridiculous fountain in the middle of the school yard


The outrageous golf-course in front of the middle of the school yard

Here's a song a former teacher used for her students.

I sincerely hope you are all well. More to come soon!

-Yours Sincerely