Oh, yeah, I'm a teacher!

Upon completion of my first week as an English teacher in Korea, I grant my readers with a blog! (CHEERS!)

As my very first entry of this blog states, my school's name is Reading Town in Gunpo-si, South Korea. Only a five-minute walk from my cozy apatu (pronounced as if you were French), Reading Town is located on the fourth floor of some high rise (they're everywhere!) across the street. Convenient.

At my doctor's visit with my school director--who, by the way, speaks almost no English--I asked her when she should expect me for my first day of work. She said, "Friday (August 28). Teachers come at 1:30." This job has been advertised to me as working from 10-6 every weekday from the first time I saw the posting. Since she said "teachers come at 1:30" and it was a Friday, I assumed it must be a teacher's day only: maybe a kind of teacher prep day for the upcoming semester or an orientation for me, both of which would be very normal for a first day of working at a new school.

Friday morning came, but I decided against wearing a tank top and jeans, even though I knew it would only be teachers. I actually went back an forth about it a few times--common for me--but finally decided to err or the side of "good first impression" for my fellow teachers. I trotted to work a few minutes early, and took the elevator to "FF," meaning "Fourth Floor," but without using the number 4.* The doors parted to a reception desk with four smiling Korean faces milling around it, dressed in extremely feminine professional attire. Well, all except one (you'll see what I mean below). I really dodged a bullet with my clothing choice that day! They introduced themselves as Katie, Janice, Erin, my fellow English teachers, and Lucia, the receptionist.

We did a little chit-chat, then Janice led me to work area, a desk at the end of a line of desks. At 1:30, they all sat down at their own desks and spoke in Korean to each other every few minutes. I noticed a schedule titled "Vanessa" above my desk and started copying it down, waiting for their turn to give me a briefing on the school. The schedule went until 8pm, which was odd, I thought. It wasn't long after that I heard children's voices outside of the teacher's office. Ms. Kim told me on medical exam day that the students had been waiting for me and were excited to see me. This was evidenced by the vibrating group of kids huddled around a strip of unfrosted glass, looking in on me with wide eyes. "Wait. Why are there kids here?" I asked first in my head, and then out loud. "We work in a school," said Katie, a snappingly. "Your first class starts--," she got up out of her seat and pointed to the written schedule in front of me, "--in ten minutes. They're taking an oral test. We'll send in one kid at a time, and you'll ask them these questions." She handed me a sheet with four questions and acceptable answers on it. Here was the first one: Q: What's this? A: A yellow bus. "So am I supposed to point to something and say 'what's this?'" She said, "Yes, you can point." Trying to be deduce what she might have been talking about, I suggested, "So the thing I point to must be in the room, and then I just point to the picture?" "Yes, you can point if you'd like." What? But I kept it cool, and headed to the room.

At this point, I'm thinking, are they going to tell me what to do for the rest of my classes today? Are they going to tell me what to do for next week? Will they tell me any school policies, grading procedures, expectations, ANYTHING? The teachers and Lucia seemed friendly, except that one: Katie. The snappy one. When I asked questions, she looked at me as if to say, "Hello? Don't you know what you're doing?" My answer, Katie, is no. I did not know what I was doing. Remember? Does "first day" ring any bells?

So I got to my classroom with only enough time to notice how bare it was with no picture of a yellow bus before Ms. Kim aka Helen, the director, sent in one very young student at a time. *Gasp!* My heart melted when I saw them with their sweet little eyes peering through too-long bangs and little sloppy mouths casually chewing on little fingertips! My frustrations and anxieties about the not knowing a damn thing vanished--if only for a moment. (okay, moral of this snippet: I freaking love kids.) What I did, in the end, was just ask the kids the question. Surprisingly half the kids knew what I was talking about and somehow answered correctly. The other half was like, "Does it look like a speak English?"

As the day went on, more situations like this--where I had no idea what I was doing--arose. Nothing was told to me. Before every class, I had to ask what to do, where to find what to do, or how to do things. As the number of questions increased, snip-snap Katie became more aggravated with me. I thanked her when she answered, to which she responded, "Yeah." What's with that? Erin and Janice, however, remained smiling and helpful, so I focused my asking on them. The day was so-so. And now that my first full week is over, I should say that it was definitely the worst so far.

Over the course of the week, I cannot count how many times I was asked questions like, "You know you need to [fill in the blank with something I did not do], right?" or "Why didn't you [fill in the blank with something I did not do]?" If I were in America, I would have said, "I didn't have any training, so the answer is no," but I wanted to remain respectful to them because I was new and didn't want to seem condescending. I think they made a bad choice in not informing me of my job duties, but employer/employee relations may--and most likely are--different in Korea. So I just replied with a sincere, "Oh, no, I didn't know that. Thanks for telling me." And wouldn'tcha know: my days got easier and I have been feeling more confident every day.

On about Wednesday, Ms. Kim told me that students had been telling her, "We like Vanessa-teacher! She is fun!" On the lightness of a feather, I floated through the rest of my week. I had finally managed a daily routine for preparing my lessons, was getting through all the material, and if, in addition, the kids were pleased to have me as their teacher, I was going strong. I am going strong.

This week I will take a post pictures of my kids, the other teachers and my classroom. As always, I welcome all questions and comments, no matter how short or long. Post them here, or write me an email at vtieman01@gmail.com.

*Korean superstition says that the word for "4" sounds too much like the word for "death," so the numeral is often omitted on buildings. Like "13" in the US.

"So You Must Speak Korean?"

Every time I speak with someone new about moving to Korea to teach English, I undoubtedly hear, with some variations in phrasing, "so you must speak Korean!" The answer is no. Right now I do not speak Korean beyond the survival phrases like, "annyeonghaseyo" (hello), and "shillehagessumnida" (excuse me). I'll probably quickly learn "where's the toilet?" and "Do you speak English," but that will come soon . . . .

I was hired as an English teacher in the satellite city (to Seoul) of Gunpo-si, starting August 11, 2009. My phone interview went very well, was comfortable, and included lots of praise for my responses to questions--never a bad thing in a stressful situation!

I'll be working with 8-13 year-olds in a school on an upper level of an office building. When I told my grandma that, she said, "that's odd." I had a good laugh in my head, but agreed with her unconscious statement that schools in buildings without a football field and room for a wood shop aren't typical in rural or suburban America, at least. Talking with her also brought me face to face with the fact that this is the most radical move anyone in my family has made since my ancestors, the Tanems and the Anensens arrived here from Scandinavia 200+ years ago. One small step for Tieman; one giant leap for Tieman kind? I honestly LOVE to think so!

Here are some pictures of my school, Reading Town, taken by my replacee, Adam.














I like how new everything looks (not like most schools I've taught in). Korea has been rapidly modernizing in the last 20 years, so many buildings--from stores to apartments to schools--look very new.

Now would you look at those little moppets. The one with the black belt on the right can be my body guard. I don't know if I'll have these students, but I hope I get some cuties like these.