Living In Korea

Korean Adventure (September 20, 2002 Chautauqua)

I'm going to try and reflect some facets of my life here, in the hopes that they may complete a picture, and show what I am experiencing.
I live in a one-room flat, in a three-story building. The other foreign teacher at my school has her apartment next door. Most schools provide the apartment rent-free, and all the teacher has to pay for is the utilities and the TV. As you walk in the door, there is a small area to leave your shoes. It is impolite to walk into a Korean house with your shoes on. I like to walk around in my slippers at home and at work. It is very comfortable.
I have a fridge, which is fairly large compared to other fridges I have known. Opposite is the sink/stove/cupboard area. It's all one unit, and that's my kitchen. I've gotten fairly good at preparing delicious meals on a two-burner gas range. It's pretty standard for most Korean households. Ovens are a rarity. Most Korean dishes are prepared without one.

One of the roads up to my con-apt, which was a block to the right. I did get a lot of what Flint calls 'Christers' visiting my con-apt. I was never as... curt as Flint was, but I did learn to shut the door on them after a while.

I have a TV/VCR unit, and I am limited to watching movies or whatever programs are part of the American Army's channel. They get most of the shows that are part of the lineup I was used to, but they can be some months behind. They have no paid advertising, but a lot of service announcements that let the soldiers know what's going on in their area. There are a lot of reminders about what it means to be a soldier. These are produced by the soldiers themselves, and some of them can be a little amateurish. I get a lot of laughs in this way.
The bathroom is a tiled room, with a toilet, a tap with showerhead attachment, and that's it. There's a drain in the middle of the floor, and that's where all the water drains. I've gotten used to washing my hands while standing back from the tap. It will be strange to return home and get used to water that drains "normally."

The street leading up to my building, which was on the right, the last building but one.

There are taps in my bathroom that would usually hook up to a washing machine. The other teacher has to deal with this, but my washer has been installed in the "back room," which is like a storage area. I have no dryer, and I take care of that job by hanging my clothes on a rack, which is standard issue for most teachers' apartments. Some buildings have a tap out front, and I have seen some Koreans using this to wash their dishes and their clothes.
I was really lucky to have a double bed in my place. Most flats have single beds (my first one did). Koreans, of course, sleep on the floor, and one of my friends (tired of the cramped and lumpy single) has switched to this with satisfactory results. I also scored a microwave, which comes in handy when I want to cook up some popcorn. That is one of the snacks that I really missed when I came here.

There were two busy streets that I had to cross on the way to work. North of this one was the neighbourhood where my con-apt was situated, which was mainly three-story one- and two-room buildings. South was full of those huge blocks that marched off into the distance.

Koreans don't usually eat popcorn. They have some... different...flavours for their chips, too. Some of them are really spicy, and can cause your tongue to dial the fire department if you're not careful. Some of their chips are sweet-tasting, as well. I remember a comedy sketch from a while back about a man who gave a snack bar attendant fits by asking for "Raspberry Ripple" flavored chips, and so on. He would have got on well here.
I live approximately fifteen minutes away from the school (by foot). There is a big hill behind the building, where I like to go hiking on the weekends. The trails are well maintained and travelled. Hiking is a favorite activity for many people, and there are camping areas that feature equipment for the serious hiker. You can do chin-ups, sit-ups, play badminton; there's even a set of barbells to do some press-ups.

This is the second busy road I had to cross. Right on the corner, almost at my feet as I took this picture, there was always a pile of tofu for sale. It sat on the corner every day, absorbing the exhaust fumes, burps and farts, narrowly missing being spat on by some mook. I... never really liked tofu after that.

The area I live in is predominantly three- and four-story apartment buildings. There are a couple of private dwellings, but these are scarcer than hen's teeth in a space-premium country like South Korea. I imagine you have to be wealthier than Croesus to afford a private dwelling. Surrounding the neighbourhood where I dwell, is the main living space for Koreans, the high rise, which go on for miles. I tried to get a picture that would show these buildings stretching to the horizon.
I pass through these on my way to work, and they are like little villages. The buildings are about 15-20 stories high, and about 10-15 apartments wide. They each have their own little strip malls, and "police" forces to keep an eye on traffic. There is a lot of foot traffic going through, mostly mothers with their kids in hand. Foreigners have a lot of eyes on them.

The building where my hagwon lurked. The PC room I used was across the street. The hagwon's name was New York, and the lobby featured a mural of the city skyline featuring the twin towers of the World Trade Centre front and centre. I worked here the year after 9/11, and it was always a little jarring to see that photo every day.

I've heard that this type of dwelling is more expensive than the one I live in. They don't seem much different inside, and I'm not sure I would want to live in an area so crowded, with people on either side, and on top as well as below you. You have to deal with a substantial loss of "personal space" when you come to Korea. There is no such thing as waiting patiently in line for anything. It's every man for himself, and don't be afraid to use those elbows.
Still, there are perks. I use a computer at a "PC Room," and the owners have gotten very good at arranging for a monitor away from the smokers. I get a nice comfy chair, and an iced tea. Being served in a restaurant is a pleasant experience, and you get a lot of "service" (free stuff!) if you become a regular.
And the beer! Ah, the beer. Their draft comes in inexpensive pitchers that always taste like another one. A night out with a group of teachers looking for a way to unwind can go on for a long time, with no appreciable dent made in your wallet. Most bars like to try and sell you a side dish to go along with your beer, and it's not unusual to see a table of Koreans enjoying a nice array of ... fruit?... to go with their beer. Or if that's not to your taste, you can always try the seaweed. Dip it into a little soy sauce. Mmmmm.
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I've had a couple of hagwons try to get away with just supplying me a beer fridge. They look at me strangely when I tell them I need a regular sized fridge. When you consider they have fridges just for kimchi, I don't think it too much to ask.
I remember in my first year, my roommate's girlfriend kept kimchi in the fridge, and whenever you opened the door, the smell would hit you like a punch in the face.
I was always impressed with the relentless way Koreans exercised. I was never able to get motivated enough to follow their example. I'm flabby and out of shape, and I would be of no use in a crisis. I thought, 'Either get in shape or hope there is never a crisis.' I always hoped there was never a crisis.
I remember going to one teacher's wedding. He invited me up to their con-apt. They were just moving in. The place was chock-a-block with all the newest appliances and electronics still in their boxes. It was too bad when she gave him the boot the day after the wedding, but he deserved it. He romanced a foreign teacher and then dumped her on the advice of a fortune teller.
What a douchebag.
I almost lived in one of those highrises during my third year, but was lucky enough to get a solo con-apt. For me, it's the only way to go.
I still didn't have a 'puter, and I didn't get one until my third year. The PC room I used in my second year was a pretty good one, and the owners were very nice to me. But having your own 'puter is the bomb. I was really happy when I got my first laptop.
This neighbourhood was in West Daegu, and the local bar we went to was called Elvis. More often than not, the waitress would insist we order a side with our pitcher. I got to like the dried squid with peanuts. You could dip the pieces of squid in mayonnaise, or hot sauce, or both. Mmmmmmmmmm.
But getting used to the side dishes that most Koreans took for granted was difficult for me. I missed the usual salty snacks that we get back here in The World. There were a few places that served popcorn, like the Hollywood Bar in Cheongju, but then you'd go to a place like The Berkeley in Daegu, which served squid-flavoured crisps.
Eurgh.

Living In Korea

Korean Adventure (June 7, 2002 Chautauqua)

A foreigner, coming to Korea to teach English, is a bit at sea on first arrival. It's a foreign country, where people speak a different language. If you don't know anyone, there's only the staff at your school (or "hagwon") to rely on. Sometimes this can be a blessing, as I have met some really good people over here.
I remember when I first got off the plane, I was met by my director and his assistant, who oversaw the teaching staff. They loaded my luggage into the car, and took me for a drive through the nighttime streets of Taegue. Korean cities at night remind me of Las Vegas somewhat. It's not quite that gaudy, but it's close. Koreans like a lot of signage on every available space. The neon lights and banners with the strange symbols are everywhere. It's pretty, but you don't know what they mean.

The street entrance to my second con-apt building.

Eventually, we arrived at the apartment I was to share with another teacher. I was so tired after travelling, I just hit the sack for a couple of days. Most hagwons provide their teachers with housing. Some of it is shared, and some teachers are provided with a place of their own. The apartment I was sharing had an entranceway, where all shoes are left. Koreans only walk around in special house slippers, and leave outside shoes by the door. It's very bad manners to wear your shoes in the house.

The courtyard inside the street entrance. The door into the building leads to a hallway. My door was the last on the left.

The common areas of the apartment were the bathroom, the TV room, and the kitchen. The bathroom had a sink, a toilet, and a shower attachment on the wall. There was no tub, and there was no shower curtain. There wasn't even a drainpipe attached to the sink. The water just emptied onto the floor, and down the same drain as the shower water. I had to get used to not keeping my feet well away from the sink when I returned to Canada.

The door to my con-apt from the inside. The "kitchen" is to the left.

In my last two apartments, I have not even had sinks, just a combination tap and shower sticking out of the wall. It's a bit odd at first, but you get used to it, and even enjoy the space that a whole "shower room" affords. There are even separate slippers that you wear in the bathroom, just to keep your feet out of the water that's there after your shower.

The door into my bathroom. Just a toilet and a tap/shower attachment.Note the fan in the lower right corner. This was just before they installed an air conditioner (my first in Korea).

Sometimes the washing machine is installed in the bathroom. I haven't lived in an apartment like that yet, but I know people who have. One girl even had an electrical outlet almost directly beneath her shower head. Yikes!

The door to the storage room at the rear of my con-apt.


Inside the storage room, with the washing machine in the foreground.


The modern Korean dryer, the latest in technology!

The television is an adventure, as well. There are about 70 channels. Most of them are Korean, naturally, but there are a few movie channels that show English films. There are also American sitcoms shown on various channels. "Friends," "Third Rock," "Seinfeld," and "Married, With Children" just to name a few.

The TV in my second con-apt. The bulge on the top is a VCR. This is before my first computer and the joys of downloading.

There is also the Armed Forces channel, which shows all the regular programming available back home. There are no paid commercials, just service announcements that the GIs film themselves. Some of them are fairly amusing in their amateurishness, and we all get a good laugh at the (unintentionally funny) antics of the American Army.
The kitchen area has a fridge, some counter and cupboard space, and a two-burner gas range for all of our cooking. One of the things I have missed over here is baking or roasting some of my favorite foods. But Korean cooking is very good, and I have no problem with the local delicacies.
Now, the school looks after the rent, but the teachers are responsible for their own utilities. This means TV, water, electricity, and gas for the cooker. There is also a fee for the oil heater. This heats up water for the underfloor heating system (called "ondol"), and the sinks and shower. Unless the school's troubleshooter instructs you on its proper use, you can have trouble getting enough hot water. I remember we had that problem until we figured out which buttons to push, and what dials to turn. Since then I have had no trouble with getting enough hot water.
The only rooms left in the apartment were the two bedrooms. My first roommate had the bigger of the two, which I got when he moved out after one month of our sharing the place. I got another roommate a few months later, and he was a good guy. We really got on well, shared the cooking, and hosted some good parties. Since then, I have had only single apartments for myself.
Next time I will talk about shopping, cinemas, and beer. Mmmmmmm, beer.
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I remember that first nighttime drive. It seemed everywhere I looked, there was a flourescent orange cross. I wondered just what I was getting into.

Inside The Korean Classroom

(May 17, 2002 Chautauqua)

I can still remember the fear I felt when I walked into a classroom for the first time. It was just this morning.
Seriously, I can now feel fairly comfortable in a classroom. When I first started, I had no experience aside from some labs I took in university. I was expecting to receive some kind of direction from the school that I was working for, but all they wanted was a native speaker to give the kids some exposure. How you spoke, and what you did to capture their attention, was pretty much left up to you.
Now the morning kids in the typical Korean "hak won" are pre-schoolers. They have no attention-span to speak of, and the Korean teachers keep them in line through fear. It's not corporal punishment, so much as the shame of being made to stand against the wall with their hands in the air.
The most profitable way to keep their attention is to be a bit of an entertainer. One teacher likened it to performing like a professional wrestler. You have a flashy entrance, some music and movement to attract attention, and a lot of loud vocalization to keep the kids centred.
The first class I teach in the morning are five-year-old boys. They are probably the most difficult to handle. They are more pre-occupied with making sure that their pencil is the longest in the classroom. It's harder than it seems, as the pencils also have to be sharpened after each individual letter is written. These points are then inserted into the erasers and broken off, necessitating more sharpening, and on and on in an endless cycle.
My next class is composed of 7-year-olds. I share that class with a Korean Teacher, and we do story-telling. I read the story, and the kids repeat my words until they can tell the story in English. The Korean teacher, Jenny, translates the words into Korean occasionally, so the kids can better understand the action. I also teach the kids phonics every other month. The other foreign teacher, Aurora, is doing that this month.
My last class in the morning is 3-4 year-olds. There is not too much I can do with them but colour, and try to introduce some English letters, numbers, or words along the way. These kids are very sweet. One boy, David, is like a pudgy little doll. He usually has a big smile on his face, and the other kids play with him as they would a doll.
The afternoon kids are elementary and middle-schoolers, ranging in age from 7-15. When I was in Korea last year, I had to do quite a bit of prep work each day. I was expected to draw up a syllabus, and do lesson plans. My first school had limited resources, and I relied on the Korean teachers for direction. My second school was a bit better organized, with teacher's manuals, games, and supplements that made planning a lesson so much easier.
The school I am at this year does not require me to do any prep work. I just walk into the classroom and the Korean teacher shows me a couple of pages in the book to do. The Korean teachers do not even leave the room. Some of them do a little interpreting of what I am saying, some do work on their own, and some sleep.
They work long hours, and I do not envy them. They are all young women, in their early twenties. There are not a lot of opportunities for women over here. It is very much a man's world, though it is slowly changing.
Some of the afternoon kids can be a little bratty, especially once you start dealing with teenagers. But most of them are very smart, and are keen to interact once the initial shyness (on both sides) has worn off.
Usually, the earlier in the day it is, the younger the kids are. Some of my last classes of the day are composed of 15-year-olds. These are kids that speak English fairly well, but need some help with polishing, grammar points, and forms of language. I've gotten a bit better at deviating from the book if a line of inquiry opens up, in order to expose the kids to as diverse an experience as I can.
It amazes me to think how far I've come from those first days, and how much more I have to learn about teaching. Although I can do a pretty basic lesson without too much thought, I hope I can learn enough to be of more use to the kids coming to me for knowledge. I'm working for them, and I want them to "get their money's worth".
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Even tough I sound pretty confident about my abilities, I never really shook that fear that I had going into a classroom for a long time. And now that I've been out of work so long, I think I've forgotten how to teach altogether!

The Top Ten Ways To Amuse Yourself In Korea

Korean Adventurer (May 3, 2002 Chautauqua)

The Top 10 Ways to Amuse Yourself In Korea

This list was sent to me by my friend, Blondie. It provides some insights about what life in general is like over here.

10.) Play chicken with cars on the sidewalk. This is a fairly common occurrence. Koreans park just about anywhere they damn well please. Cars, motorcycles, and bikes take advantage of any opening anywhere, road or sidewalk, to beat the traffic. I remember walking home from the store the other night, and I heard an engine behind me. I was almost up to a space between two other parked vehicles, and I didn't bother moving aside, as I thought the space was too small for the following vehicle to pass through. I was startled to hear the motor continue close behind me. I looked, and was confronted with the smallest car I have ever seen. It gave new meaning to the word "compact".

9.)Order Steak and Potato with Fiddleheads at EVERY Korean restaurant. I'm not exactly sure what this means, as I've not had this particular delicacy. I think it makes reference to the fact that "fiddleheads" can make you sick if you're not careful. It's not really funny, as there was a story in the "Korean Herald" last week, saying that the food in six different fast food chains (KFC and McDonald's among them) had tested positive for staph infections in the foods. Bad news for westerners who do not like Korean food.

8.) While sitting in a public spot, pretend to catch a fly with chopsticks. Celebrate loudly. Koreans are intensely interested in everything we westerners do, and do not hesitate to stare when they so you. They also like to examine the contents of your shopping basket. It's nothing hostile, just innocent curiosity.

7.) When something is said by one Korean to another that is slightly amusing, laugh hysterically. Don't stop. Well, this is just plain mean. Hee hee hee.

6.) Stand outside a Korean electronics store where the TVs are playing. Pretend to understand every word. Again, just mean. The kids in my school get very excited when I display any knowledge of their language, and it is difficult to stop them from testing me, and turn the lesson back to learning English.

5.) Remind a Korean man that he is short. Do this repeatedly. Be prepared for an a** kicking. It's true that there are a lot of short people here, but they are also very thin. One of the first things that struck me when I returned home last year was how many obese people there were, myself included. Most Koreans like to get out and do some regular physical activity, for which they should be commended. Also, there are quite a few who are as tall, if not taller than some westerners.

4. Convince them that both of your parents are Korean (oh yes, it can be done). The trick to arguing with Koreans is to remain calm at all times. Once you lose your temper, you've lost the argument.

3.) Wear Japanese flags. The Koreans really are very touchy when it comes to anything Japanese. A person who makes a reference to the "Sea of Japan" will be provided with the correct title, the "East Sea". There has always been some tension in their relations. Last year it was some textbooks, approved for use in Japanese schools, that did not deal adequately with Japan's conquests and behaviour during it's Imperial phase. It only just got smoothed over when the Japanese premier paid a visit to the shrine for Japanese war dead. Some of those memorialized are considered war criminals over here, and the visit has cast a pall over the upcoming joint Japanese/Korean hosting of the World Cup.

2.) Go to the cinema. After the preview for a Korean film, pump your fists in the air and yell, "I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THAT!". Actually, there have been some very good films made here recently. A few years back, a film called "JSA" won an Academy Award for best foreign film. It was a tense thriller about a South Korean soldier accused of murdering some North Korean counterparts. Another film, called "Friends", dealt with four rookie firemen that featured some thrilling firefighting scenes.

1.) Fix something. It always seems like there is something to be done when foreigners move into their (school-supplied) apartment. Usually, it's fairly simple to make it seem homey. My friends and I have managed to make our places comfy enough to be a close substitute for "home". We are convinced that we are the only ones to take the time and trouble. Some of the people we've had as room-mates have been less than...clean. Oh well, it takes all kinds, I guess.

Anyway, there is a lot more to tell about life in Korea. I hope I have not rambled on too long, and I hope you look forward to the next installment. Until then, anyong assayo (Peace be with you).
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Ask Flint about the shopping basket thing, and then duck.
My description of the movie "Friends" is erroneous. It's actually about four Koreans who grew up in Busan. One became a cop and another became a criminal, with tragic results.
I remember helping Mick and Jane clean an apartment after another teacher had left. The filth was indescribable. I remember scrubbing layers of grime off of the tile in the bathroom and wondering how anyone could stand it.

Stig's Second Year - The Adventure Begins

This column originally appeared in The Chautauqua, and describes my return to Korea for another year of Morning Calm and Afternoon Difficulty.

Korean Adventure (April 19, 2002 Chautauqua)

I took off from Calgary on Monday the 8th. It was cold and there was still a lot of snow on the ground. As I write this, it is raining in the city of Taegu, South Korea. Saturday was brilliant sunshine, just really nice. I had been in the country about three days by then, and I went to visit my friends, who were holding a "Welcome Back" BBQ for me.
I rode the bus across town, for almost an hour-and-a-half. The Koreans have some pretty good roads, and some are dire, and you have to sque-e-e-e-e-e-e-eze your way through. The problem with the good roads is that everybody uses them at once, so sometimes traffic can be frustrating. You can always amuse yourself by watching someone head for the sidewalk and scatter some pedestrians.
Anyway, I finally got to my friends’ place. Allow me to introduce them. The one that's been there the longest is Mick Dundee, an Australian from Perth, who was my roommate from March until May last year. He's a good guy, down to earth in that way some Australians have.
Then there's Blondie Bumstead, a Canadian from Ottawa. She gets loaded with all the dumb blonde jokes we can lay on her, but she's really smart and funny.
The third person is Jane (who's last name escapes me), who turned up after I had left. She's pretty quiet (like me), but can surprise you with a quip, and has a passion for all the candy she can get her hands on.
All three have apartments in the same building, so they're pretty close to each other. You have to have someone to rely on and trust when you're this far away from home, and these guys are the best.
The Koreans have these cunning little BBQs, that hold small charcoal bricks that ignite with the touch of a match. Or that's the theory. Sometimes they just smolder, and only slowly build up enough heat to cook on. We had a pretty ordinary western type of meal: steaks, salad, potatoes, washed down with beer. Just a group of friends catching up, and relaxing from a week of teaching the kids at school.
Aaaaah, the kids. A story for another day...

My new school was in I-dong, which is on the west side of Daegu, while my original posting (and my old friends) were in Jisan-dong, waaaaaaaaay in the southeast corner. I would visit them there maybe once a month, but usually we'd meet downtown and go to the Rock 'n Roll Bar, or the patio at Berkely.
You know, I look at pictures of the old gang, and remember that these were people that I was quite close to at the time, but now we've drifted apart. I hear from one of them, maybe once a year. The others just stopped responding to my e-mails.
It's a shame.

My First Column

When I went to Korea for my second year, I began a column reporting on teaching and travelling in Korea and the surrounding countries. These stories first appeared in The Chautauqua, which circulates in Central Alberta. I'll be reprinting these columns here and in Stig's Silly Walks. The stuff about Korea will appear here, and the stuff about other countries will be found on SSW, unless I'm channeling Flint that day, and do the opposite.

Teaching English in Korea (February 1, 2002 Chautauqua)

By Alan E. Johnson

In the summer of the year 2000, I was working as a security guard in Calgary. I had graduated from university, but was unable to find a job that suited me. Security paid the bills, and gave me time to read. But it was a dead end, and I had been looking around for something better for quite a while. I had tried to get jobs teaching English in Europe and China, but they fell through.
Then I met another guard who was going to Korea. He gave me a handout that answered questions about applying for a job, the various procedures to go through to work in another country, and an address to contact a recruiter. A lot of the work can be done via the internet, which makes it easy for people in different countries to communicate quickly.
In no time, I had a variety of offers from recruiters in Canada, the U.S, and Korea. Eventually I settled on what seemed to be the most straightforward of the offers, and got my papers together. I had to submit copies of my university transcripts, a certified copy of my diploma ( the Korean Embassy in Vancouver handles that), and a copy of my passport. Koreans put great importance on a person's appearance, so a photograph is a must. No one seemed put off by my appearance, and a contract was faxed to me.
There is a website run by the Canadian government that offers some advice about working in Korea. They make it clear that a lot of what you do is at your own risk. Koreans don't see contracts as something that they have to adhere to completely. They place more emphasis on the personal agreements that people make face to face. A contract is just a guide that can be ignored if better terms can be arranged.
There was a lot of work to do before I was ready to leave the country. I had to quit my job ( that was a lot of fun!), put some of my things into storage, sell the items I no longer needed, and move the rest to my folks'. My parents were an invaluable source of help and inspiration in this. They were very happy to see me get out of the rut I had been in. It was a very emotional farewell.
I must admit to a certain amount of trepidation as I flew half-way around the world. Wandering around the airport in Seoul ( my pick-up was late), I wondered if I had done the right thing. That feeling never really left me the whole time I was there. A new teacher is not really given any extensive training - at least I wasn't - before being placed in a classroom.

Taegu from the southwest. Taken from the "mountain" behind my first con-apt.

The school I landed at was in the city of Taegu, the third largest city in Korea ( approx. 2.5 - 3 million population). It was part of a chain of schools that go by the name of "Wonderland". When I arrived, there were three other foreigners there. I was rooming with one of them, another Canadian by the name of Phil. He gave me a lot of useful information, but he was wrapped up in personal problems, and I had to learn a lot of things for myself.
I was given a couple of days to watch the other teachers in various classes before I was given my own students. There are no words to describe the fear that grabs you in that situation. A lot of what I did in those early days was made up as I went along. To tell the truth, Taegu Wonderland is not a very good school. Their curriculum is poorly organized, and there is not a lot of support for a new teacher to rely on. A person has to look inside for the resources he/she needs.

Taegu Wonderland (3rd and 4th floors)

The main reason that foreigners are there is to provide a resource for the children to listen to. All I had to do, really, is go into the classroom, start talking, and not stop until class was over. The children needed to hear English being spoken in order to get used to the rhythms and be given corrections about pronunciation. The hard rules about grammar points and spelling would come from the Korean staff.
The Korean teachers were young, pretty women. There were four kindergarten teachers, who did not speak very much English at all. Their task was to get the children used to the school rules, where the bathrooms were, when lunch is; the usual day-care sort of tasks.
The pre-schoolers (cute as buttons, all of them) came to the school in the morning, and were there from 10:00 until 2:30 in the afternoon. At that time, the elementary and middle school kids came in. Those classes went from 3:00 in the afternoon until 7:30 at night. The same kids were not there all that time. There were three sets of kids who changed "shifts" every 90 minutes. In those 90 minutes they had two classes, one with a Korean teacher, and one with a foreigner.

Changwon Wonderland in building indicated.

There were a variety of textbooks that were used, and the Korean teacher usually controlled how fast or how slow the books were used. After a while, I began to rely less and less on these books, and on my own resources. The books became a guide as to what I was teaching, and I grew more confident about discarding the less helpful parts and giving the children more substantial instruction.
In the time I taught in Wonderland, I saw a complete turnover in the foreign staff. The teachers who were there when I arrived moved on when their contracts were completed, and sometimes before. The act of leaving early came to be known as "doing a runner". I knew five different teachers who for one reason or another decided to move on before their contracts were fulfilled. Some were a bit overwhelmed by it all, and decided to return to the "real world". Some were merely taking some time to travel and experience a bit before they took up "real" jobs.
Living over there became easier as I became accustomed to travelling around the city by myself. I really began to enjoy my time when the new teachers arrived to replace the old. We formed a gang, and we relied on each other to help us through the tough times. We found that we could get together and talk shop, take instruction in the Korean language, and generally have some fun. It was a lot like being back in school. There was less "responsibility" in our profession, and we were able to have some fun with it.
Exploring the country, experiencing a different culture, is just one of the perks of the job. I was able to see the remnants of a civilization that flourished at the same time Christ walked the earth. I was also able to see first hand one of the few remaining places that the Cold War is still being fought.
The Korean people are very friendly once you get past their initial reserve, and I made some good friends that I am looking forward to seeing once I return. Yes, I am returning - if I can sort through the many jobs available - and I hope to see the people who I came to regard as my second family. One of the jokes I heard before I left was that I would probably bring back a little Korean wife. That didn't happen, but who knows who'll come back to Canada with me the next time? I'm working on it.

Well, there you have it. My first year in Korea, encapsulated in just so many words.
It left out just how difficult those first months were, and just how bad it was, working for Wonderland. I came this close to doing a runner myself, but I stuck it out and was glad I did. By the time the year was over, I began to feel comfortable in the classroom and in Korea.

Visa Runs

There are many ways to obtain the standard E-2 visa necessary to work as an English teacher in Korea. The Korean government has added many weird and wonderful prerequisites before they will allow you in. Some of the things they check out (drugs, HIV, perversion) are not asked of Koreans, of course, but regular readers will already be acquainted with my and Flint's rantings about this.
I received my education about the whole process the hard way. The first time I went to Korea, I went without a visa, and was stopped at the check-in at Vancouver.
A person can get a visa before they go to Korea, but I didn't know that. The recruiter neglected to mention the fact that I should keep my visa status on the q.t.
I did get to Korea and finally obtained my E-2 through what is known as the "visa run." My school sent me to Fukuoka in Japan, where South Korea has a consulate that handled the application.
There are a variety of ways to get to Fukuoka. There's an overnight ferry from Busan, as well as a hydrofoil that makes the trip before you can even blink. This time, I took the train to Busan, and a plane from Busan to Fukuoka. Daegu has an airport, but the reason why I just didn't fly from there was never properly explained to me.
My school paid for everything: train tickets, plane tickets, visa fee, and about $500 for expenses. Not bad. They even gave me a map of the city, so I'd know where to go.
It was a very interesting trip. I had to get up about 3 AM or some godawful hour (on a Thursday, returning Friday) in order to make the train. My doofus of a rommmate, who couldn't give directions out of a paper bag, didn't tell me that there were two train stations in Daegu. One was simply Daegu Station, while the other was Dongdaegu (East Daegu) Station.
Dongdaegu was fairly big, and not hard to miss, but thanks to my idiot roommate, I was looking for Daegu Station, which at that time was hidden behind an outdoor market. I wandered around, looking for the entrance to the station, being stared at by all the people getting their stalls ready.
I did find it, and I made my train. The ticket guy looked at me kind of strangely, no doubt wondering why I wasn't at Dondaegu.
Babo waegookin.
One of the things I loved about getting around Korea was riding on the train. They're fast, cheap, and relaxing. It was a nice easy glide down to Busan. Hmmmm, reminds me of Arlo Guthrie's "City Of New Orleans." Maybe Flint and I can adapt the words for Korea...
Anyway, I got to Busan, and even got off at the right station (Gupo). I had to take a city bus from there to the airport, and then made the short hop across the Tsushima Strait to Japan. History buffs will recognize this body of water as the place where the Imperial Japanese Navy took on the Russian Navy in 1905, and blasted it out of the water.
From Fukuoka Airport, I took the subway to a station near the Korean consulate. There was about a half-hour walk between them. After coming out of the subway, you see a foot-wide creek, which widens out as you follow it to the coast.

I arrived at the consulate about noonish, and submitted the necessary forms, photos, and fees. The visa would be ready for pick-up the next day, at which time I would reverse the trip I'd just taken.
I remember when I made a visa run to Osaka in '07 that the visa was ready the same day, but I still got a two-day trip out of it. Time enought to visit Osaka Castle even.

And I got a great picture of this neon bat sign from my hotel.

Sweet.
Fairly close to the consulate was the Fukuoka Dome, where the local baseball team, the Hawks, play.

There's a shopping mall and a hotel attached. The complex is called Hawks Town.

Just down the street is the Chinese consulate.

According to the map, Fukuoka is lousy with consulates, probably catering to thousands of teachers like me, getting visas for all the countries in the area. The ones I saw at the consulate were all doing the thing where they ignored everybody else, so I didn't have anybody to talk to at all during that trip. That's cool. I'm solitary by nature, and I don't feel right about inflicting my company on someone who doesn't care for it. Their loss.
As it was deep December, there wasn't a lot to do or see outside. I wandered down to the beach, but there wasn't a lot to see if you didn't like just staring at the ocean.

I did go on up the Fukuoka Tower, which is not as impressive as it looks or sounds. It's mainly an elevator and some observation decks.

But it does give you a nice view of the city and the bay.
There was an old fortress I wanted to see, but I ran out of time and money.

These photos are from a later trip.

I stayed at the Mimochi Twin Towers hotel. Very nice, and cheap, about $40 a night. I got to experience a Japanese bathroom, which was very economical about the space. Its shower was very similar to the showers in Korea. The spray hits you about mid-chest.
I ate at a Japanese version of a steakhouse (across from the hotel) and turned in fairly early. There wasn't much on the television for the English speaker.
But all in all it is an enjoyable trip, and a bit of a break from teaching, which at that time was torture for me and my poor students.
Japan is very different from Korea. The cleanliness is on a level far above Korea, and the people are polite. They don't stare, and they don't noisily clear their throats and then spit.
I made two, maybe three trips to Fukuoka for different E-2's, and another run to Osaka. The others I got in Canada before I went to Korea. Once I even went to Vancouver to submit the paperwork (I combined the trip with a visit to my sister).
After you get your visa, your hagwon can register you with the government, and arrange for things like your health care. I remember in my second year, the director's second in command Charlie, took me down to register me, and we got laughed out of the office. I had gone to Korea figuring I would do the visa run, but my recruiter and the school had expected me to come with the E-2 already in my passport.
SNAFU, eh?

The Pill

I only had two room-mates in the ten years I was in Korea (whew!). The second was a pretty good guy, but the first, who worked with me at my first school, was the worst!
Imagine a depressed, angry, paranoid individual and multiply him by ten. That was the man I'll call The Pill.
When I arrived in Korea, my director, Mr. Kim aka The Kimmer, and his assistant James dropped me off at the apartment I was to share with him. We chatted for a few minutes, and then The Kimmer left, and I turned to see if all of my bags were in my room, or something, and when I turned back, HEY PRESTO! There was a Korean girl standing next to The Pill.
It turned out to be his girlfriend, who I will call Two-Na. She had been hiding in The Pill's room while the director was there. I wondered why.
The Pill started to reveal somewhat about their relationship (and his nature) as we walked to the school that first day.

This was the building our school was in. It occupied the fourth and fifth floor. The name of the school was "Wonderland," which is a fairly large franchise in Korea. There motto (prominently displayed everywhere) was "Everyone Smiles In Wonderland." I ended up working at three different Wonderlands. One was good, one was okay, and one was very bad. I suppose I was lucky in that I got the one that was very bad out of the way first.
One of the reasons this school was very bad was because of The Pill. As we walked there on my first day, he began talking about it (and its director) as if it was the bane of his existence. He felt that they were always spying on him, and that they didn't believe foreigners should be "involved" with local girls, and that is why Two-Na was hiding that night. I could see that he was in a very bad place, and it coloured my perception of my new job.
I had expected to receive some kind of training before I would be expected to teach. I think that this belief came from things the recruiter said. I didn't know at the time that recruiters will do and say anything until they drop you off and get their money, and then you are on your own.
My "training" consisted of following one of the other teachers around for a couple of days before being asked to do it on my own. Apparently The Kimmer and his aides felt that a person completely untutored in managing a classroom could absorb enough knowledge to do it alone in that time. Eventually I became comfortable in the classroom, but those first months were filled with terror that began as soon as I walked in and continued until the end of the day.
Besides The Pill, there were only two other foreign teachers at the school, who I will call Dolly and Marty. Both were Americans. The Pill was a Canadian who had moved to Texas at some point, and he constantly talked about how great it was there. I began to consider him as an American as time went by.
Marty's contract was up at the end of December (I started with about a week left in November), and he was counting down the days like he couldn't wait to get out of there. Dolly seemed happy enough to be there, and I believe her contract had until the following summer to run. The Pill's was about the same.
Dolly did a runner within two weeks, however, and after Marty left, The Pill and I were left to handle the workload alone.
The head Korean teacher was a man named Jay, whose job it was to look after the curriculum and any questions a teacher might have about it.
The disorganization of the office became apparent almost immediately. The books were crammed helter-skelter into shelves. Supplies were sometimes available, sometimes not. Teachers were given a basket with which they were to carry their supplies to whatever room they were teaching that day. Each class had its own room, and the teachers were to go to them rather than have them come to the teacher's room. There was only one school I taught in that allowed us teachers to set up in our own room. It was brilliant, and I missed that at every other school, which all asked you to "chase the students."
My poor performance as a teacher eventually revealed Jay's real role, which was to blame the foreigner any time anything went wrong, and heap abuse on them until they felt like shit. If a parent complained, or a student wasn't being coddled, Jay would descend like the wrath of God on all and sundry. It didn't help that I knew my skills were non-existant, and my performance was shite. There was no way I could defend it.
But what did they expect? They knew I was inexperienced, and they hired me anyway. Did they expect me to turn into a good teacher overnight? According to the Korean government's parameters, I was qualified enough to be allowed into the country to teach English. I knew I needed more experience and that I would not be able to be effective in the classroom without more training. I expected to receive this training from the school, but I did not. When my performance suffered as a result, who was to blame?
It didn't help that as time went on, living with The Pill became more and more difficult. His paranoia eventually brought him to include me among his many enemies, and he began to take every opportunity he could to be critical of anything and everything I did. When he saw me reading my Bible, he quoted the verse in Matthew that admonished a person to go into his closet and study privately. When I ate the last portion of rice left in the cooker, he reacted as if I had stolen the last bit of food left on the earth. I liked my toast darker than him, but he expected me to reset the toaster after I had used it to his own preference.
When we returned to the apartment at the end of the day, he and Two-Na usually closeted themselves in his room, and did not interact with me at all. I was left to my own devices, and expected to be out of their way if they wanted the apartment to themselves.
The Pill was very protective of her, and he revealed why about a week after I had arrived.
He told me she was pregnant with his child.
I did the math, and this must have been accomplished about a month after he had arrived in Korea. Fast work!
He was pestering the Kimmer for his own place, and as our relationship deteriorated, I began pestering the Kimmer, as well. It had gotten to the point where we passed each other without speaking, even in the apartment.
When he moved out, I fell to my knees and thanked God in Heaven above. Deliverance!
But the Pill had one last trick to play on me before he left my life for good.
New teachers eventually arrived, including another male who became my room-mate. He was an Australian who I'll call Gargamel. Two British girls named, um, Carol and uh, Di, as well as a Canadian girl called... Barbie rounded out our group. Life actually became bearable after these people arrived. They actually knew how to converse with other human beings. They were willing to explore Korea with me, and they were more than willing to have a good time.
Within a few months I began to enjoy my time in Korea, and my job as well. It helped to have somebody to talk to and lend a helping hand, as well as commiserate regarding the daily helping of bullshit we all had to eat.
At the end of May, all the Wonderlands in southeast Korea were coming together at a conference in a hotel on Haeundae Beach in Busan. Each group of foreign teachers had to make some kind of presentation about lessons/lesson plans. We came up with a skit about making a car and teaching the kids about directions. The Pill didn't contribute too much. He made a dramatic speech at one of our meetings that Two-Na was experiencing complications, and he had to be there with her. Then his mother died, and he had to go back to Canada to be at her funeral.
All lies.
Our presentation actually came in second at the convention and we divided a cash prize amongst ourselves. It was a bittersweet time, because I was about to leave that Wonderland and start work at another in Changwon.
Our school had six teachers and their school had five. The Kimmer explained that we had one too many, and they had one too few. I was elected to make the move.
I don't know why he picked me. Maybe he thought I was the weakest teacher, and the school'd be better off without me. It would have made more sense to oust The Pill, as he was the outsider in our group. We all worked well together and got along, whereas he separated himself from us as much as possible.
Maybe a smarter man could have figured out a way to convince The Kimmer of this, but I was not that man. His mind was made up. He didn't want The Pill to go. He wanted me to.
The weekend after the convention, The Kimmer and Gargamel loaded up my stuff into The Kimmer's car and drove me down to Changwon.
On Monday, The Pill did not show up to work. He had pulled a runner, and now The Kimmer had to find someone to take his place. He didn't ask for the other Wonderland to send me back, but went about recruiting someone else.
The Pill had fucked me over but good. The times he said he was looking after Two-Na he was looking for another job. And the trip home for his mother's funeral was actually a trip to Seoul to interview for that job.
I have never seen The Pill since that time, in spite of my intense desire to meet him in a dark alley and find out how many pieces I can carve him into. I have to content myself with the knowledge that every day of his life he is going to wake up, look in the mirror, and realize he will always be what he is, a complete and utter waste of skin.

My First Korean Con-Apt

Jisan-dong in Daegu, where I lived for the first six months of my first teaching contract.
Following are pictures of the first con-apt I lived in while teaching English in South Korea. It was a two-bedroom apartment, the only one I ever had. The rest of my time there, I was by myself in a "one-room." I must say I preferred to be alone. I shared the apartment with two different room-mates. The second was okay. He was a good guy, friendly, and as eager to explore Korea as I was.
My first room-mate, on the other hand was... well, picture the saddest, angriest, most paranoid individual you have ever met. Then double it. Imagine a guy who walked around with his own private raincloud perpetually lowered over his countenance, ready and willing to spread doom and gloom wherever he went. That was my first room-mate. He was to make my introduction to Korea a very bad experience, and a definite low point in my career as an English teacher. I had to live with this mook for a month that proved to be one of the longest of my life.
Why I didn't kill him, I don't know. I still fantasize about a dark alley, a sharp knife, and...
Well, back to the apartment.
The school paid the rent, and I was responsible for the utilities (gas, electricity, TV, etc.). We were provided with a television, hooked up to a basic cable package. There were about 70-odd channels, most of them Korean. A few movie channels showed English language programs, and Arirang showed Korean programs with English subtitles so that you could get an idea of what Korean TV was like. If you were lucky enough to be in a city with an American military base (like Daegu) you had access to the Armed Forces Network, that had a variety of U.S. programming.
There was also provided furniture, of the cheapest value that could be gotten. Most bedrooms had a bed, chair, wardrobe (there were no built-in closets in any apt. I lived in) and a desk/table. The kitchen had a table and chairs, and there was a couch in the "living room."
As I had just arrived, I had the smaller of the two bedrooms. There was just enough room to make comfortable arrangement of the furniture completely impossible, but I coped as best I could.

This is the road in front of my apartment building. A very narrow street, as you can see. It's going downhill, towards the main part of the neighbourhood where my hagwon was situated. If you turned around, you could see at the end of a street a rather large hill, which took about an hour to climb, offering quite a view of the city.

This is the main entrance to the building. The larger door was so that a vehicle could drive in and park in the courtyard, but that never happened while I was living there. The smaller door was the security door, which could be buzzed open from the apt. It never worked, and everybody usually came and went through the gate.

This is the entrance to the apt. The door is on the right, and the shoe cupboard is on the left. This is the only apt. I lived in where the shoe cupboard was built-in. The one-rooms usually had a smaller one next to the door. The entranceway featured a tiled area where everyone entering the apt. was supposed to leave their shoes. Custom dictated that nobody should wear their shoes in the house because it was considered "dirty." A Korean would goggle and gasp like they were having a heart attack if they ever caught a foreigner wearing their shoes in the house.

This is the kitchen area, just to the right of the main door. The hagwon supplied the fridge. This one was about the average size, though I have had a few that were bigger. A couple of times I have had hagwons try to get away with supplying what I would call a "beer fridge." These usually didn't last any longer than it took to replace them. One of my directors was astonished that I would need a regular sized fridge.
Foreigners constantly surprise them by acting like regular human beings.
Just on the right of the picture is the plastic garbage pail that I bought for myself. Hagwon owners don't supply these, apparently, and my first romm-mate just had a big 100-litre bag sitting on the floor.
What a mook.

This is the bathroom. Toilet, sink, and shower head attached to the wall. I've never had an apt. with a tub or separate bathing area. The water from the shower splashed on the floor and went down the drain in the middle. The bathroom had a raised threshold so the water didn't flow into the apt. After I'd been there a while, I purchased plastic slippers so I could walk on the floor without getting my feet wet, and a bathmat, so I could wipe my feet after coming out of the bathroom.
My first room-mate hadn't thought to supply these basic necessities even for himself.
What a mook.
If you look closely to the left of the sink, you can see two shower heads and a water heater attached to the wall. This was because that fucking mook hadn't figured out how to heat the water for his shower, and the hagwon hadn't seen fit to instruct him in its proper use. They did spring for this extra water heater, which kept the water hot enough for you to get wet, and then turned cold.
Very bracing!
I must say that I wasn't smart enough to figure out something was wrong until I got my second room-mate. He figured out how to get the regular shower working properly.
Why the hagwon couldn't have figured that out before paying for the extra heater is beyond me. Laying out any more money than they have to is anathema to them.
The way it was set up was pretty fucked up, too. The gas line came in through the bathroom window (Heh. In-joke for Beatles fans), which consequently could not close all the way during one of the coldest winters in Korean history. Nice engineering, eh? Typical of the makeshift that characterized all Korean engineering.
So that was the basic arrangement that I was introduced to when I first met my first room-mate and co-worker in Korea.
More about that fucking idiot soon.

Stig Goes To Korea II

I had my watches repaired the other day. I have two watches. One is a "Batman" watch I got for my birthday in 1989, about the time the 1st Tim Burton movie came out. The other watch is a 'Wonderland" watch I got from my employer 6 months after I started working there. I was amused to read Wonderland's slogan, "Everyone Smiles In Wonderland" on the back.
Amused in a kind of sad way, because the smiles in Wonderland are as false as the promises they give when they're trying to recruit you.
It's been quite a while since I posted the first part of this story, and the watch reminded me I'd better get back to it. I left off being denied by the ticket agent in Vancouver. She wouldn't let me go the rest of the way because I didn't have a work visa (the E-2). I had let this slip because what the fuck did I know about going to work in Korea? I was as naive and dumb as a person could be. Wonderland couldn't believe their luck.
It took about a week before I was on my way again. I was lucky enough to be able to stay at my sister's while making the necessary arrangements. The ticket agent had said that unless I had an "onward ticket," I wouldn't be allowed to go to Korea. Which means they wanted to know that you had the means to get the fuck out if they didn't like you.
So I arranged with my sister's travel agent to have a ticket to Japan, dated a week or so later, making sure that I could turn it in for the refund after I got to Korea.
I never saw that money again. More about that later.
The flight over was about the same as any other long boring trip where you're trapped in the vehicle until the end. It was an Air Canada flight, and the passengers were mostly Korean. I don't remember much about my first impressions of them. I was in the absolute back of the plane, with no-one else in my row, so I did get to stretch out and rest.
One of the food choices was bibimbap, the first time I'd ever had it. Not bad, for airline food. I remember the ajumma across the aisle from me gave me a look when I put all of the red pepper paste in. Maybe she was going to warn me that it was "spicy." She must've been amazed I didn't start screaming in pain after the first bite. I've always liked bibimbap. It's one of my favourite Korean foods.
When we landed in Seoul, it was dark. We were at Gimpo Airport, as the new terminal at Incheon was not open yet. (Gimpo at that time had International and Domestic terminals next to each other.) A cab driver offered to help me out, which I thought was nice, at first. I'll admit I was very nervous, and very unsure of myself in that situation. I've since learned to handle international travel with some aplomb, but at that time it was all very new and strange. The cabbie used his cell phone to get in touch with my contact, who was going to take me from one terminal to the other and put me on a plane to Daegu. My contact advised me to wait, and he would be along soon enough.
After I got off the phone and returned it to the cabbie, he offered to drive me over to the domestic terminal himself, for $20. This was my first introduction to the dreaded Korean cabbie. Beware, my children! They'll cheat you faster than you can say "What the kimchi?!"
Well, I extracted myself from his clutches, and was soon on my way to Daegu. It's only a short hop, about an hour or so. It was much later in the evening (this was a Saturday night), when I met my director, Mr. Kim, and his aide, James. Wherever I've gone in Korea, the second in command at any hagwon has invariably been named "James."
Anyway, they packed my bags into the car, and we drove off to my new apartment. The main thing I remember from that drive was seeing building after building, all with large, orange, neon crosses on top. One after another. I was thinking, "What have I gotten myself into?"

RCMP Criminal Background Check

A reader emailed me about his travails getting an RCMP Criminal Background Check, including the vulnerable sector search. He was told "something" showed up in the search and he would have to submit fingerprints to clear it. "Something", according to the RCMP, could have been a similar name or even birthday to an offender.

So, he submitted his prints 2+ months ago. This week he was called to come in. They had his CBC but now, after all the BS and waiting he went through, the RCMP does NOT do the Vulnerable Sector Search if you are getting it for a job OUTSIDE of Canada, even if you are working for a Canadian company abroad. He wasn't told why or when this decision was made, just that it is the new policy.

They gave him a photocopy of some handout which was meant to answer any questions. Why did he have to submit fingerprints when they were going to do the VSS?

"As a result of the enhancement, a Vulnerable Sector Search now requires the submission of fingerprints whenever the gender and date of birth of an applicant match to an existing pardoned sex offender record. This is not an accusation of criminality, but a requirement for a thorough verification to confirm identity and protect personal privacy. In addition to verifying an individual's association with a criminal offence ( including pardoned sex offences) fingerprints are also submitted to CCRTIS for the purpose of certifying an individual does not have criminal record information that can be disclosed in accordance with federal laws."

So if you are a man and have the same birthdate as a sex offender who was pardoned YOU are automatically flagged to be checked. I am all for a deep check, and would have no qualms about submitting to it since I know the fingerprints would clear me, but it just seems a tad anal. You are suspicious because of your gender and birthdate?

If not explained properly to people, and at the cop shop it wasn't explained properly to my reader, it can lead to a lot of headaches for the person. He was thinking his name was flagged for doing something wrong at first and couldn't understand what the hell was going on.

It seems to me that just saying we now do a fingerprint check in all cases would have been a better way to go. Since that is pretty much what they have ended up doing.

And why the hell not do the Vulnerable Sector Search if they are going to work outside of Canada? Wouldn't it be better to make sure they aren't on it before letting them go work with kids or disabled abroad?!?!?

I would be PISSED to no end if I waited almost 3 months for my CBC with VSS to be told in the end that I waited, got fingerprinted, and paid out money to be given just a basic CBC and told I can't get the VSS.

Hurry up and wait!

One of the most frustrating things I found when preparing to come to Korea was the "hurry up and wait" and "hurry hurry" mentality that seems to infect Korea. Things tend to get left undone and there isn't a lot of communication. Then everything becomes a great rush with a lot of stress. What brought this to mind was talking with a reader through email about the stress he is going through getting ready to go and work in Korea.

He found a hagwon that looked good a couple of months ago. Emails were exchanged and a month ago they said they wanted him. They want him to start in late December, after the 20th. Then, nothing. He would email asking what documents he needed to get for them and heard nothing. After a couple of weeks, last week, he got an email letting him know some of the documents he needed and telling him they would send him a list in a few days. That was a week ago and he hasn't heard anything. Hence his complaining.

He wanted to know if the were jerking him around and what the chances are of actually getting to Korea in the time frame they said they wanted him.

I don't think he is being jerked around per se. This is typical for dealing with Koreans. Hurry up and wait. Then everything is "bally bally" or rush rush. Lots of last minutes stress and frustration. I ran into this with hagwons and I ran into it with EPIK. It is completely unprofessional but that seems to be the norm when dealing with South Korea.

It is getting down to crunch time for him if they REALLY want him there around the time frame stated. He has to get his documents together and courier them to South Korea. That can take anywhere from a few days to a week. Then they have to put everything together and submit the paperwork to Immigration. That can take a few days to a week or more. Then the Work VISA paper has to be couriered back to him. Then he has to send it to the nearest Korean Embassy for the VISA stamp on his passport. Will they want an interview? Then they have to send it back. THEN he can legally go work in South Korea. (I say legally because I wouldn't be surprised if the hagwon asked him to come at the original time with NO VISA saying he can get it later.) He is looking at a three week period at least with all the couriering. It is getting to the point where the time frame is not realistic.

That doesn't mean he won't get there. It just means it won't be when he expected. And it will probably be a stressful and frustrating rush at the last minute. Which is par for the course when dealing with Koreans.

Shit Koreans Do... At The Theatre

I was at the movies today. I went to see the new "Harry Potter" film. I quite enjoy the books and the movies. I wasn't aware of Harry Potter until I went to Korea in 2000. I started to see stories on the news about kids lined up to buy each new book as it came out, and dismissed it as something that I was too old for.
But during my first year in Korea, I became desperate for things to read. I picked up the first Potter book and I never looked back.
Watching the latest film, I became aware of a family of mooks sitting behind me. The little girl asked questions about what was happening every five minutes, which her mom did her best to answer. Neither one of her parents asked her to be quiet, and her persistent whispering went on and on. The dad was not impressed with the film at all, and complained loudly as soon as the end credits started to roll. Things like "garbage" and "waste of time" and so on. The little girl seemed like she enjoyed the films; I wondered what she thought of what her dad had to say.
The rest of the audience was pretty well behaved. There weren't any other talkers and nobody fiddled with their cell phones at all. There were a couple of times when some kids left to go to the bathroom, but they returned to their seats with little hullabaloo.
How different from a Korean movie theatre!
The amount of mookish behaviour that goes in there has to be seen to be believed. People coming in late, people going in and out all through the film, kids running up and down the aisles, people talking, people talking/texting on their cell phones - it was no wonder Flint and I went to fewer and fewer films as time went by.
Once, when we went to see "Miami Vice," it was like we were surrounded by mooks who came to the movie expressly to talk to their friends on the phone. Silly Flint and I had actually come to see the film, and nothing else.
I was sitting next to a woman who just would not leave her phone alone. I finally leaned over and started yakking in her ear, "Who is it? Is is for me? If it's for me, I'll talk."
She shut the phone off, but she was not happy. Her big plan to get back at me was to wait until I took a swig from my drink, and then fill the cup holder on the armrest between us with her own bottle of water.
I chucked it on the floor.
She started chattering away at me, and I said something like, "I'm trying to watch the film!" I kept expecting her boyfriend to do something about me. What I didn't realize was that he had made a motion to put me in my place, but Flint had loomed up behind me. The boyfriend scuttled back into his seat like a turtle retreating into his shell.
There's nothing so frightening as Flint when he looms... or smiles.
Well, that was the "high point" of our theatre-going experience in the Land of Morning Calm and Afternoon Difficulty.
After Flint left Korea, I did go to a couple of movies with our mutual friend Spock, and whenever the usual mookish behaviour began, I took to throwing popcorn at the offending mook.
The look on their faces... still convulses me with howls of derisive laughter!

Stig Goes To Korea

Well, since Flint started his reminisces about how he came to Korea, I've been brooding on my early years. Since I'm not there anymore, with no plans to return, maybe I'm in a position to go back and sort some things out. Maybe make some sense of it all.
Since I've been back home, I've been going through my papers and other assorted memorabilia I had stored at my folks' place. The process sure has brought back a lot of memories, not all of them bad.
My journey to Korea started back in the 90's.
After I graduated university (with a degree in History), I drifted for a long time. My plan had been to go on and get a Bachelor of Education degree, but my marks weren't quite good enough for the faculty to seriously consider accepting me as a student. There were other, more deserving applicants.
I made a half-hearted attempt to bring my marks up to snuff, but lost interest and didn't even finish out the semester. I had been working part-time as a security guard, and I drifted into a full-time position at a bank data centre.
I liked security work, especially the night shift, because it gave me plenty of time to read. Mostly it was quiet, and I didn't have to deal with too many people bothering me. It was a lazy decision, and appealed to the idle side of my nature.
My folks were pushing me to do something more with my life, but I had difficulty getting motivated. But I gradually became aware of overseas jobs, teaching English, that might provide something of a challenge.
I applied to teach with a U.S. Christian school in Hungary, and considered going to Africa, when I met another guard who told me about Korea. He explained to me the part about only needing a four-year degree, receiving training on the job, and especially teaching private lessons for some extra income.
He left me with a xeroxed brochure with some FAQs and a contact number for a recruiter who might find me a school. This was 10 years ago, and I was only just becoming computer literate, but I managed to correspond with this fellow, send in my resume, and start fielding offers.
Most of the schools needed someone RIGHT NOW, which I hadn't anticipated. I needed time to fold up my life here in Canada and put my things in storage. I calculated how long this would take and gave the recruiter a tentative start date for November of 2000.
He came back to me with a school in the Korean town of Uijongbu, which is siuated a little north of Seoul. Anyone who doesn't recognize the name might be interested to know that this town was the setting for the fictional characters in the book, movie, and TV series "M*A*S*H." I was excited to hear this, being a big fan. This was where almost all I knew about Korea had been learned.
I learned more courtesy of the Canadian government, which has an extensive article about teaching English in Korea on their website. When I received my passport, it was accompanied by a booklet entitled "Before You Go," which has a lot of useful information like that.
I read a generally positive view of going to Korea, with some warnings about things like the fact that Koreans view contracts as subject to negotiation, even after you have signed them. Anyone who has worked in Korea has no doubt become aware of an employer's... "freedom" with the terms of a contract.
There were a great many things I had to learn about Korea and working there that would come as rude shocks, starting with checking in at the airport.
My parents saw me off on my flight early one morning, and I'm not ashamed to say that I was nearly overcome with emotion on the short hop from Calgary to Vancouver. I was stepping off into a great unknown, leaving everything I had known and loved behind.
Transferring planes in Vancouver, I met up with my sister and niece, who came down to the airport to see me off. They accompanied me to the check-in, where the first bump in the road very nearly derailed everything.
The ticket agent asked me the purpose of my visit to Korea, and I forthrightly answered that I was going to teach English. She noted that I had not yet obtained a work visa ( for most foreigners an E-2), and that without one, I wasn't going any further.
Ooops.
My recruiter had told me that I would obtain my visa after I had arrived in Korea, but had neglected to tell me that not only was this technically illegal, but that I should keep quiet about it until I was actually in country, and even then not to go noising around about it.
Luckily, I could stay with my sister in Vancouver until things got sorted out, but it almost looked like my Korean adventure was over before it had even started.

Sick Days

Then you have sick days. I know I have touched on them before but it bears a second look. Any contract I have seen or heard about includes sick days. Of course, we all know how binding contracts are in South Korea. Sick days are treated a little differently from vacation days. That is, no employer seems to like you to use them.

From what I have seen and heard you get the least hassle from Universities about sick days. Mainly because you will have to make up the classes if they want you to.

Public Schools and Hagwons seem to share the view that you should come in to work even if you are dying. Death is the only excusable abscence. I can't speak for Public Schools but in Hagwons I have worked at, the Korean teachers come in feverish and half dead instead of staying home and recovering. (Students too.) Regardless of how infectious they might be. The foreign teachers are expected to do the same. One place I worked at wanted you to bring in a doctors note if you couldn't work. All of the places I worked at would want you to come in THEN go to the doctor (preferably with them) before taking a sick day.

Ivy School ... I had pneumonia and they STILL wanted me in working. In one breath they said I should be in the hospital, and they meant hospital not clinic. In the next breath, since I am not in the hospital I should be at work. I was addle minded enough from the illness that I did work a few days when I should have been hoem recovering.

Now bring in the aforementioned government policy on contracts and how binding they are and see what that means for your sick days. Yes, you get them. No, you can't use them. Fine, we will let you use some of them ... but we will never forget your "never give an inch" attitude.

It is even worse for students. Parents usually send them to school even if they are feverish and passing out. The ONLY exception to this was during the Swine Flu scare of 2010. If you tested positive for Swine Flu you were not allowed to go to school. If you had the regular flu, well get your ass in your desk and study. It is pathetic to see how Korea dealt with Swine Flu, and deals with illness in general.

Vacation Time

Vacation time in South Korea can be broken into two categories. First is what you get at Public Schools and Universities. The second is what you hope to get at a Hagwon.

The public schools and universities tend to honour vacation time. (I haven't heard of any that haven't. Which doesn't mean it hasn't happened, I just never heard about it. ;) ) You will probably have to teach a "camp" during the overall vacation period. However, you will receive your alloted vacation time, usually after the "camp"

The "camp" is just extra "intensive" classes. (Damn my " key is getting a workout today.) Intensives are extra classes, outside your regular schedule and curriculum, that kids (and University students) take during their vacation period. Instead of enjoying their time off school they are usually forced (kids) to take these extra classes. They are called "intensive" because what is normally done in 1 semester is crammed into 3-4 weeks. For example, a 20 chapter book that normally takes 2-3 months is done in 1.

Not much of a camp eh?

At the public schools you will have to do what is often called "desk warming" or "chair warming" time. School will be closed for the vacation period but you will still have to be there. Usually a Korean teacher will be there too. A Korean teacher I used to know said that they would rotate. One teacher would be in for a few days or a week. Then it was someone elses turn. Based on what I have heard the foreign teacher is usually there too the whole time (sans their week of vacation and camp time.)

Hagwons are a whole other story. My 1st contract simply said I received 2 weeks of unpaid vacation. When I asked about booking my vacation time a few months into my 1st year I was told we don't book it. We get it after we finish our contract. It was the 2 weeks you had before you HAD to leave the contract after your VISA expired. The director considered THAT to be your 2 weeks of unpaid vacation time. Yeah, pretty shitty but pretty standard for the way Hagwons screw around the foreign teachers.

Any contract I signed after my 1st stated that I got 10 paid vacation days. Ivy school said it would be 5 days in the summer, around a weekend, and 5 in the winter, around a weekend. That actually worked the 1st year. The 2nd year they shaved a day off each vacation. The third year they tried to force us to take a TWO day vacation plus weekend. In the end they screwed everyone out of 2 vacation days, making it 3 days plus a weekend.

The next school had the same amount of vacation days. The boss said he would TRY to give us 5 and a weekend but was never able to. However, we were able to take vacation days here and there with permission. Including around chuseok and seollal.

The guy who bought that school turned out to be a real asshole and was just like the scum that ran Ivy School. He was going to give us ONE day and a weekend. It ended up being 2 and a weekend. Luckily he sold the school before I had a chance to quit.

Vacation time is a prime example of what is wrong with contracts in Korea. They are only honoured IF the director wants to. While you can complain to the Labour Office don't expect it to go to far when the OFFICIAL government policy now seems to be that contracts are not binding.

Yes, that is what I said. A contract, according to the Korean government is not binding. In a seminar that all Hagwon teachers were forced to attend in the spring of 2010 teachers were informed that contracts are a starting point not an ending one. You should expect to be asked to do things that aren't in the contract and you should accept at least part of what you are asked to do.

I particularly liked their comments about "never give an inch" not being the Korean way. Hagwon owners rarely ever give an inch, YOU are expected to. I only ever had one Director in Korea that understood what compromise was, and was willing to do it. And he honoured his word. Most of them don't. One of the pitfalls of working in a Hagwon.