Much has happened since my last update two weeks ago. The following is the last of a six-part series.
This is Part 6: These are a few of the Things That I Miss
1) Brother:
I called my brother yesterday afternoon (KO Monday afternoon = CA Sunday evening) for the first time since I got to Korea, and wow did I miss him. I didn't know just how much I did until I began listening to his voice, seeing his face in my mind, and feeling numerous pangs in my stomach, my face become hot, and my vision blur with tears and my voice tremble a bit. I composed myself of course, and I know he didn't notice, but my powerful visceral reaction to hearing his voice was a surprise even I didn't see coming. I guess you can say we have a close relationship.
2) Friends:
Here's a public note to a couple of my dear friends (and for everyone not mentioned, it's not personal; I do miss you all sincerely):
I. Dear TJ Lane
I'm sorry I haven't contacted you personally for so long. I will do so soon, if even only for my own sake. But remember that Nalgene you got me for my birthday last year? And you know how much you like to see your gifts being used well?
You can't see it yourself, but believe me when I say that the water bottle and I have become inseparable. I remember misplacing it once and I was under extreme duress for the next three hours until a friend found it for me. It has become an absolute requirement, a lifeline, a part of me. I have it every time I leave my room; to workshops, language classes, anything, everything.
Thanks.
II. Dear Nick Gerber
i) I don't know if you've read "Log6.2: On Pedagogy" yet but let me tell you that your help was essential to the success of my last lesson, not only for your pedagogical advice but the basic framework which you outlined for me and which launched my lesson plan in big ways. The kids were engaged, focused, and walked out probably a bit tired but more importantly thinking, and thinking critically about these issues. Thank you.
ii) I have befriended a Pitzer 2010er who is here with me now and whom I had met at the CORO Fellowship finalists interview day. Who would have guessed that he would quickly become one of my closest friends with whom I have connected very well, in part because he reminds me of our relationship SO MUCH. Seeing his mannerisms, the way he speaks, his conversational style, his body posture, his sincerity, his warmth and a big-brother-type aura he exudes are all so incredibly similar that I could easily deny this as mere coincidence; that there is something else in the works, a grand plan, some eerie twilight-zone/parallel-universe thing going. Remember our freshman year? That's what it's been feeling like with this guy.
In any case, this is not to take away from either you or him as human beings or undermine the different relationships we have built and will build, but I just thought I would share with you this interesting peculiarity in my life.
Miss you, babe.
Josh and Chris, if you're reading this, no I'm not gay. *sigh* And don't worry, I miss you guys too.
3) Weather
Today I dipped my shirt in a pool of warm water and let it soak there for twenty minutes. By this, I mean that I played basketball for thirty minutes.
"Dry" is not a concept extant in Korea, apparently (not true, not extant in the summer; it's very dry in the winter). The humidity level is absurd, and the actual heat from the sun has not helped any. Thank goodness for air-conditioning, because otherwise none of these electronic devices would be functioning properly (due to moisture; exaggeration, but only slight).
4) Mexican Food
The first time I had a burger in the past six weeks was two days ago. What makes you think Mexican is something even remotely conceivable by my neck-of-the-woods?
So apparently there are a few good Mexican restaurants in Seoul. But really the past few weeks have involved at least one person a day saying, "I know I shouldn't say this but...I would die for a [insert taco, burrito, quesadilla, or other stereotypically Mexican food]." Oh my friends, it has been difficult. Oh my friends, I do miss these things called chips, nachos, burritos, pinto, black, salsa, guacamole...
Cherish them. Eat them for me.
I go to Seoul this weekend. The first thing I want to have will be these foods.
5) Wine
Wine is not common here in Korea. It's not consumed, and it's not produced well. If produced, it is often fake. If imported, it is imported often from other Asian countries who also fake it. The alcoholic staples here are soju and bland beer.
Two nice cabernet-sauvignons are sitting above my bed right now. I brought them as gifts to give to my 1) school principal and 2) host family.
I have since bought an imported white for cheap, scraped off the import label, and have decided to substitute that for one of the reds which I myself will consume, hopefully on my birthday.
I want some wine.
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.
Log6.1: A Visit from St. Parents
Much has happened since my last update two weeks ago. The following is the first of a six-part series.
This is Part 1: A Visit from St. Parents.
On Sunday July 25, my parents visited me in Goesan, Chungcheongbuk-do, middle-of-nowhere Republic of Korea.
Okay, so the story actually makes a bit more sense.
My mother has been in Korea caring for her mother (my grandmother) since late June while my father has been in and around Korea on business trips. Hence, they left the United States a week before even I did, and for the past couple of months have been residing in Seoul, the nation's capital.
Since I arrived in Korea, I had been in touch with them frequently and had told them I would come visit them--and the rest of my maternal relatives--the first day I could. Unfortunately, the schedule had been so packed with things both useful and unwarranted that I simply could not afford the time required for a proper visit.
Let me clarify; Seoul is 3hours away by public transportation from my orientation site, and if you don't know rural inland Korea, then it might be fruitful of you to actually take public transportation rather than risk getting lost in the mountains.
As the days went on and my father's plan to return to the US became more uncertain, opportunities to see both of my parents seemed to diminish quickly. My parents knew that, and I knew that; we all wanted to see each other.
So on Saturday July 24th, I get an e-mail from my father saying, "We'll be visiting Goesan to go check out some temples. Let us know if you have some time!"
Goesan is 10minutes away by walking; or for you Claremont College students, a walk to the Village from the 5C's. Of course I had time.
On the one hand I wondered if I should feel bad that ultimately they had to travel all the way down to see me. On the other hand, I know that they don't want me to feel that way and that I would be doing them a disservice by moping about something so apparently trivial.
So that aside, what else could I be but the happiest and luckiest son in the world?! Taken aback and speechless for a while, I went to see them for dinner.
We only had about 2.5 hours together; we spoke a little at a local bakery, then went to dinner at my school (because the options in the village were so poor). They left after dinner so they could be back in Seoul by Monday morning(reminder: the travel time is 3 hours by bus).
"Was it good to see them?" Of course. Seeing them was both calming and revitalizing, and reminded me again of the most integral parts of my life that I sometimes lose sight of amidst the flurry of things. Talking to them grounded me again and helped me compose myself for the long haul.
But what else I would say is that seeing them in Goesan, an agrarian boonies of Korea, for a fleeting few hours only to have them vanish away in a taxi again, was surreal. Anyone familiar with holograms, popularized by Star Trek? In some ways, this reality that brought my parents to Goesan to see me for a few hours seemed more like a holographic exercise where my parents were holograms, life-like and convincing only to evaporate from my world in a matter of hours again. That I saw them last in California where the weather was dry and the sun rolled around in the blue sky made this reality seem less real. After an evening's rest, I was back on the phone with them, as if they had never left.
But such is the beauty, and paradox, of life, is it not?
As for the title, we're not religious and I'm not advocating that my parents receive sainthood. But I will say that their visit seemed to have some inexplicably holy qualities about it.
This is Part 1: A Visit from St. Parents.
On Sunday July 25, my parents visited me in Goesan, Chungcheongbuk-do, middle-of-nowhere Republic of Korea.
Okay, so the story actually makes a bit more sense.
My mother has been in Korea caring for her mother (my grandmother) since late June while my father has been in and around Korea on business trips. Hence, they left the United States a week before even I did, and for the past couple of months have been residing in Seoul, the nation's capital.
Since I arrived in Korea, I had been in touch with them frequently and had told them I would come visit them--and the rest of my maternal relatives--the first day I could. Unfortunately, the schedule had been so packed with things both useful and unwarranted that I simply could not afford the time required for a proper visit.
Let me clarify; Seoul is 3hours away by public transportation from my orientation site, and if you don't know rural inland Korea, then it might be fruitful of you to actually take public transportation rather than risk getting lost in the mountains.
As the days went on and my father's plan to return to the US became more uncertain, opportunities to see both of my parents seemed to diminish quickly. My parents knew that, and I knew that; we all wanted to see each other.
So on Saturday July 24th, I get an e-mail from my father saying, "We'll be visiting Goesan to go check out some temples. Let us know if you have some time!"
Goesan is 10minutes away by walking; or for you Claremont College students, a walk to the Village from the 5C's. Of course I had time.
On the one hand I wondered if I should feel bad that ultimately they had to travel all the way down to see me. On the other hand, I know that they don't want me to feel that way and that I would be doing them a disservice by moping about something so apparently trivial.
So that aside, what else could I be but the happiest and luckiest son in the world?! Taken aback and speechless for a while, I went to see them for dinner.
We only had about 2.5 hours together; we spoke a little at a local bakery, then went to dinner at my school (because the options in the village were so poor). They left after dinner so they could be back in Seoul by Monday morning(reminder: the travel time is 3 hours by bus).
"Was it good to see them?" Of course. Seeing them was both calming and revitalizing, and reminded me again of the most integral parts of my life that I sometimes lose sight of amidst the flurry of things. Talking to them grounded me again and helped me compose myself for the long haul.
But what else I would say is that seeing them in Goesan, an agrarian boonies of Korea, for a fleeting few hours only to have them vanish away in a taxi again, was surreal. Anyone familiar with holograms, popularized by Star Trek? In some ways, this reality that brought my parents to Goesan to see me for a few hours seemed more like a holographic exercise where my parents were holograms, life-like and convincing only to evaporate from my world in a matter of hours again. That I saw them last in California where the weather was dry and the sun rolled around in the blue sky made this reality seem less real. After an evening's rest, I was back on the phone with them, as if they had never left.
But such is the beauty, and paradox, of life, is it not?
As for the title, we're not religious and I'm not advocating that my parents receive sainthood. But I will say that their visit seemed to have some inexplicably holy qualities about it.
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
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."
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!
I hope you're all well!
Friday, July 16, 2010
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!
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!
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