No Room to Grow

While talking with one of my brightest students about her high school and college and job plans, her hopes and dreams, I told her to just find the thing that makes her happy, and try to do that as a job. She looked a me for a moment, a look of confusion on her face before saying:

"I don't have that."

In our whole conversation about job goals, I never once heard any hint of what she would enjoy doing. I know what her dad wants her to do, what her teachers want her to do, and she certainly knows which jobs are most difficult to get and which pay the most. But apparently there's nothing she loves to do.

This makes me really sad.

I know it's rather old hat to complain about the harshness of the Korean school system, but I'm going to jump right in regardless. These are the things I witness on a daily basis. This is the stuff I talk with my students about. I don't know how to fix it, but I can at least give a view from the inside.

Since I teach all three grades of middle school, I'm able to see the way my students change as they move up through the school, and what I see is...not encouraging. My first years are fun, often too noisy, but braver. Or at least less afraid. More likely to shout out any answer they can think of, even if it's one word. By second year, they're less like kids, definitely turning into teenagers, with all of the accompanying difficulties. They seem more shy, less likely to answer unless they know they're right. By third year they seem almost...broken. If it's not on the test, they don't want to hear it. They're already thinking ahead to high school, to college, and all the tests that are ahead of them.

I was lucky enough to grow up in a super liberal, hippie-infested small town, with parents who were inclined to support whatever I decided to do with my life, so long as I wasn't actively hurting myself. I've never been good at studying things I'm not interested in (I lack discipline, you see), so fortunately I was in an environment that allowed me to take the choose-your-own-adventure option. In university I was able to mess around and take all sorts of different classes before landing on the thing I was most interested in.

Because of my own experiences, I find the Korean system really hard to relate to. I was never pushed to take great stock in my grades or test scores, instead focusing on participation, critical thinking, and what I learned. Some of my favorite and most valuable classes were ones where I ended with the worst grades, but I don't mind. So when my students come to me complaining about "bad" test scores and show me 95%, 90%, even 98% (!!!) I'm flabbergasted. 95% is bad? What universe are we living in?

Was anyone surprised?

I saw the above graph floating around on English teacher sites a while back, and while Korea's place did not at all shock me, seeing it put so plainly was disheartening. It's well-documented that South Korea has one of the highest youth suicide rates in the OECD, and considering both the pressure put on students to perform and the lack of mental health support in and out of schools, I'm not at all surprised. It's depressing to be stuck in a system that I don't support, but as only one person, and an outsider to boot, there's not a lot that I can do personally to change the system. So what's a girl to do?

My strategy is tied to my core reason for teaching: if I can make an impact in just one person's life, then I've accomplished something worthwhile. I'm never going to be the person storming the castle, making big changes--I know that much about myself. So, I stick to the little things. As foreign teachers, we have a different perspective, as well as a measure more of freedom, than our Korean counterparts. I say use that.

The biggest thing I see lacking in my students' lives is the chance to be creative. Everything is about memorization, lists, one right answer. Perfect grammar is more important than the ability to communicate. Actually, one of my students who is now in high school put it perfectly:

"In science we only learn, without any explanation. Just memorizing. I like English, and learning. In Korea, people don't like to accept something different." 

All of this to say, creativity is one of the most important things to bring into the English classroom. My lesson style varies from week to week, but the one consistent thing is creativity, even the smallest bit. It's not always easy; sometimes it's even painful. Oftentimes my kids are so accustomed to finding the One True Answer that when there isn't one, when any answer that suits them is correct, they get lost. They get confused. Blank stares and cries of "teacher what?" abound. But then, once it clicks...magic is not too strong a word.

When I see a student's face light up with the realization that they can write anything, that they can choose their own response, that makes it worth the planning, the powerpoints, the ages spent explaining what to do. Either despite, or because of, the dearth of chances to express their creative ideas, my kids manage to come up with some of the most imaginative and interesting things.

I'm all about small changes, small impacts, ground level work. The Korean school system has a long way to go before it stops hurting the students struggling their way through it, and if I'm honest with myself, there's not a lot I can do to hurry it along. But like I said: if I can help one student to realize there's more to life than lists of facts, that you are not your test score, I'll be satisfied.

From the Mouths of Students

Teaching is hard.

I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's true. A good portion of my students on any given day don't give a crap about learning English. When I first started teaching, I really let that get to me. I sincerely care about these kids, I want them to learn, so every student who talked or napped through my class was like a personal wound. Right in the feelings.

It also makes you wonder..."Why am I here?" I don't have a teaching degree. I'm just another idealistic English major dreaming of making a difference in the world. Do I have any right to make my students to pay attention in class? Am I helping them at all? Is it morally okay to be complicit in forcing English into their brains? Am I worthless? The constant articles about "The end of foreign English teachers!" and emails from the local Education office about budget cuts are no help in this area either. You read about a Korean group railing against the necessity of foreign teachers and you start to think, yeah...maybe...you're right...I'll just go...am I really any use here anyways?

As a career worrier, these are the sorts of questions that start to assail me after a week of difficult classes. It wasn't even entirely my fault. Teaching with a cold benefits no one.

So, after a week going into a deeper and deeper slump, a recent conversation with a student just revived me like a shot of adrenaline to the heart.

I've always felt that it's important to get to know your students outside of class, because the way they act in class can be entirely different from their true personality. It's easy to pass over very smart or talkative students, just because they aren't as motivated in class. This is all too true in the case of Taehon, the main character of my story.

On Lacking Mutual Respect

Taehon is a third year middle school student, the equivalent of a freshman in high school for any American readers out there. That puts him at...what...15 or 16 years old? In a class of 36 students, he doesn't stand out at all. Average height and looks, unlikely to speak up in class, but secretly a passionate and driven student, with big dreams for the future.

After our first class together, he came up to me to apologize for his noisy classmates, explaining that they "lack mutual respect." I was floored. I know American middle schoolers who don't know the words "mutual respect." I still can't decide if I was more shocked by the vocabulary or the sentiment.

Since that day, he'll occasionally linger after class to ask horribly complicated grammar questions in that quiet, thoughtful voice of his, but we never had a real chance to talk until today.

I don't have any classes this week due to midterm exams, so I was bumming around the English room cleaning and organizing during lunch today, hoping that someone would come visit. My wishes were granted! Taehon wandered in, offered to help clean, then asked his usual difficult grammar question. By the way, explaining the difference between "to" and "for" in simple English is hard. I think I confused him more than I helped.

Be the Change

However, after we muddled our way through grammar, the real questions started to come out.

"Will you stay in Korea for long?"
"Yes! I love Korea. I love teaching."
"Good! Korean schools...need you."

I get this question a lot. "Will you stay?" When I say yes, I want to stay here long-term, no one believes me. It's just so common for foreign teachers to spend one or two years before returning to their home countries to start a "real life".

"If you want to know Korean history or culture things, I will teach you."
"Wow! Thank you so much! I will ask you."
"And, please teach me about American culture."

This led to a bit of a comparison between Korean and American school life, and the fact that American students have lots of free time, since after school academies aren't really a thing, shocked him. I also mentioned how happy I felt to know him, to have such a curious and smart student.

He then brought up his month studying abroad in New Zealand, and the fact that the students there "Had the attitude to learn. They want to listen."

My theory about many Korean students and their lack of focus in class in that they are just plain tired. 8 hours of school followed by afterschool hagwon work until as late as 11 PM or midnight? How can you expect them to have the energy to actually learn when they're spending so much time working?

This brought out the best thing I've heard from a student in a long time.

"I think...Korean education is not good. I want to change. So, I want to be in politics. If you can vote in Korea someday, please vote for me."

This kid is going to go far. If I can ever vote in Korea, I know I would vote for him. There's hope for the world yet.