Follow up on Tim (and Matthew)

The blog I’ve received the most responses from was ‘A Boy Named Tim,’ so I thought I should follow-up with that whole situation and how it’s progressed.

When I wrote that blog back in December, I had only taught Tim a few times. I’d been teaching Matthew, his older brother, since I started at Sky, and definitely found him to be... a challenge. I like Matthew, but he is constantly disruptive and distracting.

There are times when I have to reprimand a student, and then when we get back to the lesson and he/she reads the passage perfectly. Obviously my affirmations need to be just as swift as any punishment. This has been an invaluable lesson for me – I can’t hold grudges and create a welcoming learning environment, it’s as simple as that. But this is something that takes a bit of maturity to practice, so it’s not surprising a few of my students still resent Matthew’s (and Tim’s) disruptive behavior.

In a way, I think the practice of chastising a student for poor behavior is a very Korean thing to do. When I speak to those who’ve travelled to Asia, or know someone who has, I constantly hear how ‘rude’ the people are. Instances of ‘cutting in line’ and being pushy are remembered vividly, which are totally valid and accurate. But the longer I’ve been here, the easier it is to see how essential these practices are.

The sheer number of people in this content requires an assertive attitude, otherwise no one would get anywhere. I think this is true for the public ridicule I’ve witness in regards to troublesome students. Classmates of the same age find poor manners deplorable. But regardless, it’s always a little shocking to me when classmates shun another student. It’s a really foreign act.

Anyway, back on topic. Tim and Matthew. So Tim and I originally had private lessons, and he’s a bright kid who is quick to laugh. He’s also the only student I’ve taught who is ambidextrous, which is impressive. Then our class size tripled and now he shares the spotlight with Brian and Jenny. But he’s not the best at sharing. He’ll act out and deliberately misbehave so I'm forced to give him more attention. And at first I did.

I imagined what would happen if I told his mother of his actions, and opted to tackle this challenge alone, but he was taking away attention from other students. So now I give him a choice: he can misbehave on the other side of the room or he can join us. It’s been pretty successful too. He’s learned that if he wants to screw around, I’m not going to give him attention, and his classmates won’t want him on their team, or, he can behave and join in the fun.

Whenever a class finishes a book we celebrate with a pizza party, so, as promised, when Matthew’s class finished ‘Side by Side 3’ I bought a pizza. Only Matthew came to class that day, so it was just us, a barbeque pizza, a deck of cards and Moby. He really liked Moby. Then out of the blue, we had this conversation:

Matthew: My father scare sometimes.

Now, I didn’t know if that meant his father was scared, or is scary, so I just kept quiet and waited for him to clarify.

Matthew: He mad a lot.

Me: I get scared when my father is mad.

Matthew: Your father hit you?

Me: No. He never hits me.

Matthew: Sometime my father hit.

Again, I had no idea what to say. I’d imagine I’d have a clearer set of instructions of what actions to take if I taught in the states, but not here. There are no actions. The concept of child protection does not exist.

Me: Why does your father get so angry?

Matthew: He work at prison and is stress.

Me: Yeah, that sounds stressful.

Matthew: He hit mother.

Me: And then your mother hits you?

Matthew: Yeah.

Me: I think I would feel angry and scared if my mother and father hit me.

Matthew: Yeah.

Me: I won’t ever hit you.

Matthew: I know teacher.

And as quickly as the conversation started, it ended. He commented on how much he loves pizza, to which I agreed, and asked if he could give the leftovers to his mom. It was a heart wrenching conversation, and I still feel like I wasn’t adequately supportive. It’s hard to know what the hell the say in a situation like that.

Even though having class with Tim and Matthew can be taxing, it’s been a really rewarding experience also. They’re bound to have behavioral issues, but it makes their sincere moments that much better. So, yeah, they are definitely a challenge, probably my most challenging students, but they are also some of my favorite students too. Tim always pops his head in my classroom when he leaves and says, ‘see you rater teacher,’ and Matthew is always so tender with me. He gently cups my face when he asks a question, or pats my back when he walks past, so, I’m happy to take the good with the bad.

The ABC's of Hangul

If you ask a Korean to name something uniquely Korean, they will likely say kimchee, the spicy national dish of fermented cabbage. Or maybe Taekwondo, a branch of martial arts from Korea. Or maybe some sort of technological development, which are all true, but not what this blog is about. Today you will read about the Korean alphabet known as Hangul.

The Korean language is thousands of years old. Linguists say that it belongs to the same language family as Mongolian, Hungarian, Turkish and Finnish. When I read that I was flabbergasted, I mean, what does Korean and Finnish have in common right? None of those languages (besides Mongolian) even come from the same continent!

From the fifth century, Korean was written in Chinese characters. There were a few ways to write it, but they were all quiet complicated, and in order to read and write, you had to learn thousands of intricate characters. This meant on scholars could master it.

King Sejong the Great is the father of the modern alphabet. Sejong became king in 1418, and ruled during a period of great economic, cultural and political development in Korea. The era was known as the Golden Age. The Golden Age? I know, right? My exposure to history is so skewed to Western Civilization, when I first read Golden Age I thought that can’t be possible, first of all, that took place in Italy about 40 years later. But alas, I can freely admit that when it comes to Eastern history (and most parts of Western history too I dare say) I am completely ignorant.

Anyway, this king, King Sejong, was quite the Renaissance man himself. He was a swordsman, an astronomer, a poet, a musician and a scholar. He founded the Chiph-yon-jon, a royal academy of scholars. This institute published books on history, geography, agriculture and medicine.

Clearly he was an enlightened ruler, and part of his vision included a national plan to have all Koreans become literate. He believed using Chinese characters to express Korean ideas was like trying to fit a square tool into a round hole. Along with the academy, he began a ten-year project to design an easily learnable alphabet. When the work was completed, King Sejong published a proclamation called Hun-Min-Jeong-Eum (‘Correct Sounds to Instruct the People’). In this document he wrote:

‘Because Chinese characters are a foreign writing system, they cannot truly capture Korean meaning. Common people have no way to express their thoughts and feelings. Therefore, we have created a set of twenty-eight letters. The letters are easy to learn and it is our hope that they will improve the lives of the people.’

The new alphabet became known as Hangul, meaning great letters.

Unlike Chinese, Hangul is a phonetic language: each sign represents a sound. And unlike English, where each letter may have several sounds, the pronunciation of the Korean letters is constant. Originally Hangul had twenty-eight letters, but only twenty-four are used today. There are three basic vowels, shaped like the three most important elements in Taoist thought: sky, earth and humanity. The symbol for the sky is a dot, the symbol for earth a horizontal line, and the symbol for humanity is a vertical line. The other vowels are created by adding strokes to these basic symbols.

The shape of the five basic consonants is based on the shape of the mouth and tongue when the sound is pronounced. Other consonants are variations of these five consonants. Letters are grouped into ‘syllable blocks.’ Each syllable block has a max of four letters and begins with a consonant. Each consonant is followed by one or two vowels. Hangul can be written in vertical columns from top to bottom and right to left, or in horizontal rows running from left to rignt.

Just because King Sejong create an easily learnable alphabet doesn’t mean it was immediately accepted. Scholars who had spent a lifetime learning Chinese characters opposed the new alphabet most. They referred to Hangul as ‘morning letters’ because the alphabet could be learned in a sing morning. Sometimes they called it ‘women letters’ because, at that time, only men could be scholars. For centuries, Hangul was mainly used by people of lower social status. It wasn’t until after WW II that it was more and more popular in South Korea. And in 1949, North Korea outlawed the use of Chinese letters altogether.

The invention of this language has created some remarkable results. Korean children learn to write at an early age, and illiteracy is almost unknown, though I suspect there’s a high population of Koreans in Andong who can’t read because of such despairing income levels (Andong is primarily farm land remember.)

Because Hangul is a phonetic alphabet, it’s better suited for computer keyboards and programs than a pictograph-based language is, like Chinese. A fifteenth-century alphabet has helped Korea in the modern global market.

Hangul is a source of Korean pride. For many years, October 9^th was a national holiday known as “Hangul Day.’ Many people were disappointed when the government decided it would no longer be celebrated, and I’ve decided to create an organized effort to change the minds of these bureaucratic officials by coordinating a massive student revolt. Really, I don’t need much of a reason to want to encourage revolts, so this seemed as good a cause as any! So if you see a newscast about an American instigator imprisoned for creating a riot in a rural part of Korea, you’ll know where I am.

The Jjimjilbang

I mentioned in my last blog that I went to a Korean sauna for my birthday, which is called a jjimjilbang (pronounced jim-jill-baang.) It’s a very ‘Korean’ thing to do, so of course I had to give it a go.

Koreans go to the jjimjilbang like Americans go to the mall. They range from the simple to the luxurious, and include a wide range of services. Basically, there are pools of water at various temperatures, and you alternate between them, occasionally throwing in a trip to the sauna. Typically there’s a wet sauna and a dry one, which are tiled with precious stones believed to have healing properties. Some of the fancier spas have an aroma-therapy room as well, though not the one I went to.

The cost ranges from about $10 - $30, and for that you get a towel and locker for your stuff, and then walk about the place naked, you know, like you own the place. Which is totally what I did.

Before you enter any water, it’s mandatory to take a shower first. The sauna has a girls and boys side, and some even have a family section. It’s not uncommon for Koreans to spend an entire day at the jjilmjilbang, soaking and scrubbing each other’s backs. And I mean SCRUB!

If you spend any amount of time watching Korean television, you will inevitably see an infomercial or three on the latest product that removes dead skin. Koreans are crazy about shedding old skin! So I took part in this time-honored tradition and paid someone to forcibly remove my skin, dead and alive.

For a mere $25, a woman around the age of 50, and very nearly naked, put on cloth mittens that felt exactly like steel wool grazing my skin. Talk about service! Thought tiny, she had a wiry strength that still frightens me. So I got on the table, face-down, and this lady proceeded to scrape and scour my entire backside. Again, I do mean SCRUB! She lifted and lowered, bent and parted, washed and rinsed every inch of my bod. When she wanted me to flip, she’d roughly pat my glowing red skin as to indicate so. There was no part of my body too private for her formidable rub, and the multiple occasions I would pull away, she never relented in her task. Besides the obvious uncomfortable spots, I found the deep chaffing in my armpit more than a bit distracting.

Since this was the first time I’d ever done this, the amount of skin that was ripped from my body was definitely disconcerting. The skin, my skin, would wind itself into little grey worms, and when I squished it between my fingers, felt exactly like clay. After my thorough cleanse, she washed my body, face and hair. When we were done, she smacked me a few more times and awaited a tip. And I thought my job was sadistic!

Afterwards, we, that is to say, Val, Kat and I, soaked for a spell in the cold pool to close our pours. And sooner than later, it was time to catch my bus, so I sauntered into the locker-room to find my lady just chillin with other Korean women, and I kid you not, she smacked my butt when I passed her! The nerve of some Koreans!

The rubdown was definitely painful, but I was told later that my skin had a healthy glow to it, so, eh, yeah, I’ll probably do it again. Maybe. There are individual stalls for friends to scrub each other at, which was a common sight, and the overall atmosphere was one of respite and relaxation.

We didn’t take advantage of all the amenities, which included massages, acupressure and acupuncture, but regardless, I definitely felt squeaky-clean!