Much has happened since my last update two weeks ago. The following is the third of a six-part series.
This is Part 3: A Musical Renaissance
Everyone told me that I should continue to play music after I graduate. I couldn't tell you then or now how exactly I will be involved with music, but it seemed only right that I do. I just can't seem to separate myself from this metal pipe of an instrument, and--ipso facto--music.
Since I've arrived in Korea I can't count...3? 4 days in which I failed to practice. Of course, we must understand the term "practice" lightly, for I am not attending to the once rigors of scales, arpeggios and etudes I once used to. By "practice," I could mean anything from an hour to ten minutes. I know that daily and continued playing--even just touching the flute each day--can play a significant role in the long run. Eventually, word got around that I play the flute, and there is an incredible pool of amazing musicians in this group of ETAs. I have been happily surprised.
I met Emily (or more famously called EKG after her initials), an officer who works at the Fulbright office in Seoul . After hearing her fantastic violin playing at an impromptu performance at Haeinsa, I had hoped to speak to her regarding musical opportunities in Korea. Not two weeks later, I would be performing five pieces with her and another ETA pianist for over 120 students and staff!
She was asked by Camp Fulbright (see Log6.2: On Pedagogy) to perform something for the campers on Music day. She approached me knowing that I had my instrument and asked if I wanted to collaborate and I of course readily agreed. We recruited another ETA who happened to be a brilliant pianist, and together we rehearsed for maybe two hours in total and performed for the students. We played a Telemann duet, the "Flower Duet" from the Lakme opera by Delibes, and three movements from a trio written by an Italian composer Cui.
The last time I collaborated with other musicians--much less rehearse and perform with them--was more than two months ago. I had not realized how much I missed it, but while rehearsing with these two fabulous musicians, I remembered the vitality, the energy, and the inexplicably divine and pure joy music gave me. To stand there and immerse myself in the music and become lost--even if only for a moment--in a world beyond our own was the most refreshing break I had since arriving in Korea. And to share this experience with the 100+ campers and their staff in addition to the musicians with whom I collaborated...well, that was just enchanting.
Showing posts with label camp fulbright. Show all posts
Showing posts with label camp fulbright. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Log6.25: Log6.2 Interpolation
Much has happened since my last update two weeks ago. The following is an interpolation of the second part of a six-part series.
This is the Part 2: On Pedagogy, INTERPOLATION
NOTE: As of August 25, 2010 the blog has become public, and as such the contents of the following entry have been revised.
The following is a true story.
I sit down with her to go over my "Stereotypes" lesson plan the evening before I teach it. I enter the room, say hello, she says hello back, and as I sit down the following are verbatim the first words from her lips:
"So, I read your lesson plan and it's very Pomona...(she had a clear emphasis on my alma mater)"
I'm sorry, what? Oh, yeah, that, yes; well, yes, I did attend Pomona College. Thank you for reminding me of this invaluable fact. I am grateful that you could identify that most crucial and overwhelmingly relevant element of my lesson plan and remind me of it. How do you think I can incorporate my alma mater's name into becoming a better teacher? How could I apply this fact to my lesson plans? Do you think the fact that I attended Pomona College should be something I impart unto my disciples in the future?
DUDE, WHO CARES?!
Apparently, she did very much because she continued to drop my alma mater's name, turning the Roman goddess of fruit tress into an adjective she could wield as a weapon to impart characteristics and judgment less unto the lesson plan and more unto me.
It was a revealing moment about one Claremont Colleges student, and it was rather disheartening to see. Perhaps she doesn't care, or didn't even notice, but this was the first time I had heard somebody even mention my school name since graduation! Having been here meeting these wonderful people, the last thing I remember about a person is which school he/she went to, because frankly that's not relevant! At all! So why is that something so subliminally haunting your critique of my lesson plan?
I'm making it sound like a bigger deal than it is. I simply smiled, marked it with a small asteriks among my day's activities, and quickly became lost in whatever actually mattered. It's fun to look back on it though, hehe.
What I can say is that the incident failed to improve my image of [insert college name] students. This has nothing to do with what my initial images of [insert college name] students are; just that the incident help improve them.
But it's okay, because one of my closest friends is a [insert college name] graduate and he is one of the brightest and most enjoyable human beings to be around.
...
What does it say though if he didn't actually like [insert college name] much?
This is the Part 2: On Pedagogy, INTERPOLATION
NOTE: As of August 25, 2010 the blog has become public, and as such the contents of the following entry have been revised.
The following is a true story.
As many of you may know by now, none of the Claremont Colleges (henceforth the 5C's) are knock-off schools. At least, I respect them. There are of course intercollegiate dynamics that have been popularized by the media and to some extent we have lived up to. Such instances aside, we are predominantly intellecutally driven, ambitious and accomplished individuals. Last year's Fulbright ETA Korea class consisted of at least one representative from each of the 5C's except for Harvey Mudd, and this year there are--albiet homogeneous--six of us: one Pomona (yours truly) and five Pitzer.
The mentor for my one of my lessons was a graduate of [insert 5C college name]. This year's class introduced ourselves earlier in the week to her, so she knew I was the lone Pomona; and I knew she was [insert college name].
"So, I read your lesson plan and it's very Pomona...(she had a clear emphasis on my alma mater)"
I'm sorry, what? Oh, yeah, that, yes; well, yes, I did attend Pomona College. Thank you for reminding me of this invaluable fact. I am grateful that you could identify that most crucial and overwhelmingly relevant element of my lesson plan and remind me of it. How do you think I can incorporate my alma mater's name into becoming a better teacher? How could I apply this fact to my lesson plans? Do you think the fact that I attended Pomona College should be something I impart unto my disciples in the future?
DUDE, WHO CARES?!
Apparently, she did very much because she continued to drop my alma mater's name, turning the Roman goddess of fruit tress into an adjective she could wield as a weapon to impart characteristics and judgment less unto the lesson plan and more unto me.
It was a revealing moment about one Claremont Colleges student, and it was rather disheartening to see. Perhaps she doesn't care, or didn't even notice, but this was the first time I had heard somebody even mention my school name since graduation! Having been here meeting these wonderful people, the last thing I remember about a person is which school he/she went to, because frankly that's not relevant! At all! So why is that something so subliminally haunting your critique of my lesson plan?
I'm making it sound like a bigger deal than it is. I simply smiled, marked it with a small asteriks among my day's activities, and quickly became lost in whatever actually mattered. It's fun to look back on it though, hehe.
What I can say is that the incident failed to improve my image of [insert college name] students. This has nothing to do with what my initial images of [insert college name] students are; just that the incident help improve them.
But it's okay, because one of my closest friends is a [insert college name] graduate and he is one of the brightest and most enjoyable human beings to be around.
...
What does it say though if he didn't actually like [insert college name] much?
Log6.2: On Pedagogy
Much has happened since my last update two weeks ago. The following is the second of a six-part series.
This is Part 2: On Pedagogy
Two weeks ago in "Log5," I described my excitement and anticipation for my first ever classroom teaching experience. Two weeks have gone, and I have now taught three full classes on different topics. This entry is about those experiences.
"Camp Fulbright" hosted the top elementary, middle, and young high school students to a two-week English immersion camp. The camp provided a space for not only these young students to learn, but also us to practice teaching, many of us for the first time. Each day of camp had a certain academic/non-academic theme; I taught on the days of music, literature, and social studies, in that order.
This is the way the show ran: I taught a 50-minute class, my co-teacher teaches a 50-minute class, and we both get feedback from a host teacher who observed and gave us feedback in private.
Lesson 1: "My Girl can Rhyme" (Music)
I opened with a short introduction, during which the twelve middle school students displayed an indistinguishable reaction of surprise, elation, and disappointment at the sign of my name which is as American as the USSR was in the 1970's and as emblematically Korean as kim-chi. This reaction, I think, would not prove insignificant.
I told the students that 'My Girl' was from 1964, and they "ooh"-ed and "ah"-ed in ways that made me feel, perhaps for the first time, like someone behind the times. Nevertheless, they loved the song. We played 'Telephone' with each of the three teams of four relaying one line from the song to each other. The game proved much more successful than it might have seemed.
So we went over the vocabulary words then proceeded to listen to the rhyme schemes. Afterward I asked them to work in groups and partners to come up with their own rhymes, but the worksheet proved far too difficult. That, or I just didn't set it up well enough, and the activity rather tanked. Some students "got it," but many were left behind. 50 minutes passed, and John was up next: a Paul Buyan-esque, red-headed Viking-like 6'3" Southerner from Georgia.
I remember getting down on myself after seeing how well John did; he nailed it. His subsequent lessons all proved to be wonderful successes despite his lack of teaching experience. I guess he was made for this job.
I don't want to undermine his fantastic presence and incredible execution of the lessons, but I did also feel that in a nation so easily enraptured by the apparent and so quickly seduced by the aesthetic (by this I mean the hyper-sensitivity to body image and the extreme cosmopolitanism), a Viking-esque man who would stick out like a sore thumb even in America would surely command more attention from the audience than an explicitly Korean man when given the same stage; he's different, SO different.
I know I know, everyone has different ways of teaching, no two people have the same learning curves, each person has his/her strengths, etc. I'm certainly not attributing pedagogical differences to our different ethnicity, of course not, but I am simply willing to ponder what influences this transparent subtlety may have on the students' learning.
In any case, the teacher thought it went pretty well and pointed to classroom management and conclusion of class times as a couple of things I could work on.
Lesson 2: "A Little Alliteration" (Literature)
After looking at the texts I brought with me from the states(DFW's Consider the Lobster or Alex Haley's Autobiography of Malcolm X), I realized that the same group of students would not be ready for such a deep discussion. So after some thought, I thought alliteration would work well. And it worked wonderfully...sort of.
To start off class, I recited to them the "V" monologue from V for Vendetta. This hooked them in quite quickly, since my recitation of the monologue was imbued with my inner desire to perform it. They quickly picked up on the theme, and we dove into tongue twisters.
First we played Tongue Twister games; three teams of four race to see which one can first complete the 'Peter Piper' tongue twister perfectly, with each member reciting one line from the verse. That went over well, and they were really very good.
Then we played another game called "Dialogue." This timed class activity entails each person to read one line from a whole passage. The catch is that each knows only the line he/she must speak, and the line that precedes it. Each student must hence listen to their classmates and speak their line in turn.*
*SAMPLE SLIP: "When you hear: Bobby Bippy bought a bat/Read aloud: Bobby Bippy bought a ball."
This became a huge success, and after each round the students wanted to better their times. The first time took 2 minutes, the second time took 50 seconds. Then they imposed a "30second challenge" on themselves to try to say the 12-line passage under 30 seconds.
They completed it in 27 seconds. The class erupted as if Korea had won the World Cup.
So they got the idea, and I shared with them how such alliteration can be used in poems. I used Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost, then gave them Shel Silverstein's Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out as a worksheet.
The games sapped their energies and the worksheet proved too long.
Overall though I walked out feeling much better about my teaching skills. The CI (mentor) had many great things to say, reassuring me that many of the kids were just so sleep-deprived and tired that their lack of energy after the game was not my fault. I will cut myself some slack and say these kids had a ridiculous schedule.
Lesson 3: "Gender and Racial Stereotypes" (Social Studies)
By far the most ambitious, but also the most successful of my three lessons, I walked out this lesson feeling great.* I had my doubts placated once my mentor told me that my lesson was "one of the best lesson plans executed for student-centered learning." I couldn't help but say back to her "Holy sh%#, thank you wow, sorry for my French." Needless to say, I was floored.
*This was a whole different class, by the way; new students, new mentor. This was the first and last time I would teach this group of students.
Okay, Academy Awards aside, personal thanks to Nick for helping and inspiring me to make this plan work. I wrote him an e-mail asking him to "brief" me on some of the issues and draw from his pedagogical experience, and he went overboard and out of his way to help me.
I start with the riddle about a boy who gets in a car accident with his father, goes to the hospital and is seen by the doctor who says, "I cannot operate on my son." The riddle questions how the dead father can suddenly be the doctor, but reveals the general prejudice that doctors are male and cannot be the mother of the son. I don't tell the end of the riddle until the end of class.
I play two-truths-and-a-lie about myself after my self-introduction. This is to get them to start thinking about racial/ethnic stereotypes. 1) I was born in Korea (True; a few thought it was a lie); 2) I was a speed skater (True; almost all thought it was a lie) 3) I have an "American" name (False; only two guessed correctly that this was the lie--ie everyone else assumed I had a stereotypically American name). When I wrote my name up on the board, it was interesting to see their reactions; quite contrary to the first class I taught.
I then played the Agree/Disagree exercise; go to one side of the room if you agree with a statement, and the other side if you disagree.
We are in the USA. Obvious; all disagreed.
This tie is blue. Obvious; all agreed.
Men are stronger than women. All women disagreed; all men agreed (FASCINATING, NO?!)
Women are better cooks than men. Two women agreed; all others disagreed.
Then we just brainstormed on the board; things about men, then things about women. Then the class split into teams of four and rotated around poster stations where they would do the same about other racial categories: Indians, White Americans, African Americans, and Koreans. Then we debriefed.
These students were not typical Korean students, for they were, as the coordinators told us, the best and the brightest. Their awareness of these stereotypes was impressive; one student saw that "poor" was written by the African American bubble, and reacted to write a 'nullifying' "rich" next to it.
Still, the exercise proved rich with ideas and concepts. The students were engaged and engrossed by the activity, visibly grappling and struggling with the adjectives and nouns that arose in their heads. The clearest example was the lack of words and descriptions given to Indians (of continental Asia) versus those given to Koreans; the sheer quantity of bubbles was incomparable. And I pointed that out to them. And as I walked around the classroom to share with the students what they all had come up with collectively, I was astounded by the number of pairs of eyes that followed me intently. Clearly, they had taken some interest to what I had to say, and the conclusions that we
I finally concluded with the vocabulary word of the day, which was "stereotype." I tied it back to the riddle, the two-truths-and-a-lie, and finished with a story about Jeremy Lin, a friend from Palo Alto with whom I went to elementary and middle schools and who after graduating from Harvard this year is now drafted by the Golden State Warriors. He is Taiwanese, and is right now hanging out with Yao Ming for his foundation.
My objective for this lesson was for the students to simply think about these issues and raise questions in their head. And by the focus they had for those 50minutes, the tremendous attention they gave me, and the warmth of their applause at the end of class, I could not help but walk out feeling great. I would have been happy to have had even one student walk out of class and think about these issues for even just 2 seconds, but by the way that lesson went I think I can safely say--without intended conceit or arrogance--that I accomplished this goal.
I was stunned by just how many good things my mentor had to say. She did mention that I could do more with positive reinforcement and perhaps tone down my serious persona, but she said that semi-facetiously. I intended the class to have a more serious tone, so I'm glad I communicated that.
Conclusions and Thoughts
Teaching was draining and incredibly tiring. From brainstorming lesson plans to creating the lessons to preparing for the lesson and actually enacting the lessons, I gained a tremendous appreciation and renewed respect for teachers past, present and future, and especially for those who shaped me in ways undefinable and indescribable.
More to come.
This is Part 2: On Pedagogy
Two weeks ago in "Log5," I described my excitement and anticipation for my first ever classroom teaching experience. Two weeks have gone, and I have now taught three full classes on different topics. This entry is about those experiences.
"Camp Fulbright" hosted the top elementary, middle, and young high school students to a two-week English immersion camp. The camp provided a space for not only these young students to learn, but also us to practice teaching, many of us for the first time. Each day of camp had a certain academic/non-academic theme; I taught on the days of music, literature, and social studies, in that order.
This is the way the show ran: I taught a 50-minute class, my co-teacher teaches a 50-minute class, and we both get feedback from a host teacher who observed and gave us feedback in private.
Lesson 1: "My Girl can Rhyme" (Music)
I opened with a short introduction, during which the twelve middle school students displayed an indistinguishable reaction of surprise, elation, and disappointment at the sign of my name which is as American as the USSR was in the 1970's and as emblematically Korean as kim-chi. This reaction, I think, would not prove insignificant.
I told the students that 'My Girl' was from 1964, and they "ooh"-ed and "ah"-ed in ways that made me feel, perhaps for the first time, like someone behind the times. Nevertheless, they loved the song. We played 'Telephone' with each of the three teams of four relaying one line from the song to each other. The game proved much more successful than it might have seemed.
So we went over the vocabulary words then proceeded to listen to the rhyme schemes. Afterward I asked them to work in groups and partners to come up with their own rhymes, but the worksheet proved far too difficult. That, or I just didn't set it up well enough, and the activity rather tanked. Some students "got it," but many were left behind. 50 minutes passed, and John was up next: a Paul Buyan-esque, red-headed Viking-like 6'3" Southerner from Georgia.
I remember getting down on myself after seeing how well John did; he nailed it. His subsequent lessons all proved to be wonderful successes despite his lack of teaching experience. I guess he was made for this job.
I don't want to undermine his fantastic presence and incredible execution of the lessons, but I did also feel that in a nation so easily enraptured by the apparent and so quickly seduced by the aesthetic (by this I mean the hyper-sensitivity to body image and the extreme cosmopolitanism), a Viking-esque man who would stick out like a sore thumb even in America would surely command more attention from the audience than an explicitly Korean man when given the same stage; he's different, SO different.
I know I know, everyone has different ways of teaching, no two people have the same learning curves, each person has his/her strengths, etc. I'm certainly not attributing pedagogical differences to our different ethnicity, of course not, but I am simply willing to ponder what influences this transparent subtlety may have on the students' learning.
In any case, the teacher thought it went pretty well and pointed to classroom management and conclusion of class times as a couple of things I could work on.
Lesson 2: "A Little Alliteration" (Literature)
After looking at the texts I brought with me from the states(DFW's Consider the Lobster or Alex Haley's Autobiography of Malcolm X), I realized that the same group of students would not be ready for such a deep discussion. So after some thought, I thought alliteration would work well. And it worked wonderfully...sort of.
To start off class, I recited to them the "V" monologue from V for Vendetta. This hooked them in quite quickly, since my recitation of the monologue was imbued with my inner desire to perform it. They quickly picked up on the theme, and we dove into tongue twisters.
First we played Tongue Twister games; three teams of four race to see which one can first complete the 'Peter Piper' tongue twister perfectly, with each member reciting one line from the verse. That went over well, and they were really very good.
Then we played another game called "Dialogue." This timed class activity entails each person to read one line from a whole passage. The catch is that each knows only the line he/she must speak, and the line that precedes it. Each student must hence listen to their classmates and speak their line in turn.*
*SAMPLE SLIP: "When you hear: Bobby Bippy bought a bat/Read aloud: Bobby Bippy bought a ball."
This became a huge success, and after each round the students wanted to better their times. The first time took 2 minutes, the second time took 50 seconds. Then they imposed a "30second challenge" on themselves to try to say the 12-line passage under 30 seconds.
They completed it in 27 seconds. The class erupted as if Korea had won the World Cup.
So they got the idea, and I shared with them how such alliteration can be used in poems. I used Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost, then gave them Shel Silverstein's Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out as a worksheet.
The games sapped their energies and the worksheet proved too long.
Overall though I walked out feeling much better about my teaching skills. The CI (mentor) had many great things to say, reassuring me that many of the kids were just so sleep-deprived and tired that their lack of energy after the game was not my fault. I will cut myself some slack and say these kids had a ridiculous schedule.
Lesson 3: "Gender and Racial Stereotypes" (Social Studies)
By far the most ambitious, but also the most successful of my three lessons, I walked out this lesson feeling great.* I had my doubts placated once my mentor told me that my lesson was "one of the best lesson plans executed for student-centered learning." I couldn't help but say back to her "Holy sh%#, thank you wow, sorry for my French." Needless to say, I was floored.
*This was a whole different class, by the way; new students, new mentor. This was the first and last time I would teach this group of students.
Okay, Academy Awards aside, personal thanks to Nick for helping and inspiring me to make this plan work. I wrote him an e-mail asking him to "brief" me on some of the issues and draw from his pedagogical experience, and he went overboard and out of his way to help me.
I start with the riddle about a boy who gets in a car accident with his father, goes to the hospital and is seen by the doctor who says, "I cannot operate on my son." The riddle questions how the dead father can suddenly be the doctor, but reveals the general prejudice that doctors are male and cannot be the mother of the son. I don't tell the end of the riddle until the end of class.
I play two-truths-and-a-lie about myself after my self-introduction. This is to get them to start thinking about racial/ethnic stereotypes. 1) I was born in Korea (True; a few thought it was a lie); 2) I was a speed skater (True; almost all thought it was a lie) 3) I have an "American" name (False; only two guessed correctly that this was the lie--ie everyone else assumed I had a stereotypically American name). When I wrote my name up on the board, it was interesting to see their reactions; quite contrary to the first class I taught.
I then played the Agree/Disagree exercise; go to one side of the room if you agree with a statement, and the other side if you disagree.
We are in the USA. Obvious; all disagreed.
This tie is blue. Obvious; all agreed.
Men are stronger than women. All women disagreed; all men agreed (FASCINATING, NO?!)
Women are better cooks than men. Two women agreed; all others disagreed.
Then we just brainstormed on the board; things about men, then things about women. Then the class split into teams of four and rotated around poster stations where they would do the same about other racial categories: Indians, White Americans, African Americans, and Koreans. Then we debriefed.
These students were not typical Korean students, for they were, as the coordinators told us, the best and the brightest. Their awareness of these stereotypes was impressive; one student saw that "poor" was written by the African American bubble, and reacted to write a 'nullifying' "rich" next to it.
Still, the exercise proved rich with ideas and concepts. The students were engaged and engrossed by the activity, visibly grappling and struggling with the adjectives and nouns that arose in their heads. The clearest example was the lack of words and descriptions given to Indians (of continental Asia) versus those given to Koreans; the sheer quantity of bubbles was incomparable. And I pointed that out to them. And as I walked around the classroom to share with the students what they all had come up with collectively, I was astounded by the number of pairs of eyes that followed me intently. Clearly, they had taken some interest to what I had to say, and the conclusions that we
I finally concluded with the vocabulary word of the day, which was "stereotype." I tied it back to the riddle, the two-truths-and-a-lie, and finished with a story about Jeremy Lin, a friend from Palo Alto with whom I went to elementary and middle schools and who after graduating from Harvard this year is now drafted by the Golden State Warriors. He is Taiwanese, and is right now hanging out with Yao Ming for his foundation.
My objective for this lesson was for the students to simply think about these issues and raise questions in their head. And by the focus they had for those 50minutes, the tremendous attention they gave me, and the warmth of their applause at the end of class, I could not help but walk out feeling great. I would have been happy to have had even one student walk out of class and think about these issues for even just 2 seconds, but by the way that lesson went I think I can safely say--without intended conceit or arrogance--that I accomplished this goal.
I was stunned by just how many good things my mentor had to say. She did mention that I could do more with positive reinforcement and perhaps tone down my serious persona, but she said that semi-facetiously. I intended the class to have a more serious tone, so I'm glad I communicated that.
Conclusions and Thoughts
Teaching was draining and incredibly tiring. From brainstorming lesson plans to creating the lessons to preparing for the lesson and actually enacting the lessons, I gained a tremendous appreciation and renewed respect for teachers past, present and future, and especially for those who shaped me in ways undefinable and indescribable.
More to come.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
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.
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
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)
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
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