Nothing left to say

We have now entered mid-August and as you can see there have been new posts here. Some may look at this silence and think "where has he gone to?". To them I can only offer my sincere apology and a brief explanation.. I was experiencing things. I was letting the taste of a sweet dish linger in my mouth for awhile before swallowing. I was stopping abruptly during a nature hike to admire the elderly trees disappearing into a looming mist. I was busy finding my way in the labyrinth of cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Qingdao and witness the triumphs and struggles of change that have imprinted themselves on the landscape. Yes, all of that and more than I can condense into words.

But I was also rethinking my approach to this blog and its purpose. For some reason it slipped out of my grasp and became another "work". As I struggled to create posts that would be interesting to my readers, I often assumed the role of a narrator. This was unintentional and as a result many of my entries contain an externalized perspective that is not my own. From afar it might seem tragic to deal with the everyday struggles that come with living in a foreign country - the impenetrable language barriers, the feelings of confusion, anxiety, and bewilderment.

Contrary to what is seem to be expected by those who have commented on my writing, I embrace these experiences fully and would never seek to denounce or slander them. This is perhaps what most do not understand when reading the "work" of an Other. There remains always the possibility of misinterpretation. To clarify, the Other is our relationship with the external world that is imperfect, incommensurable, and not something one choses to engage; nevertheless it manifests itself in the world. It the "how" that governs what we encounter everyday in varying degrees of frequency and intensity.

It was always my intention to point out the common but unfamiliar experiences of Otherness. Remembering a name or regarding something as beautiful. I never wanted my readers to walk away thinking about how awful an experience this is or frighten them away from making similar visits to a foreign country. I only wanted to point to these areas of tension in order to flesh out the aspect of our lives that are bound to an encounter with the Other. In so doing, there was a great number of sympathetic statements and offers of assistance - all appreciated but which sadly missed the point.

So where is there now to go? A blog without an agenda or direction... is that possible? In my mind it is the only fitting tribute to the Other who does not offer itself to me in any coherent form. In my life there is only a strobe light vision of this vague shape in the darkness. What I do with all my interpretation is an injustice to the Other. I am a tyrant constraining it by the reins of of my paragraphs. And to the Other I say "I see you, but I will not look. I hear you, but I will not listen. You are there where I am not".

Teaching in Hwawon: Korean Education and Post-Colonialism

More and more I am beginning to see the tremendous amount of work that is expected of me while teaching in Hwawon that was not explained during the initial hiring process. During the orientation process any question pertaining to the job were frequently countered with the phrase “it depends...”. It depends on the school location, your co-teachers relationship, your principle's fondness of you, and students' level of English... even the consistency of your bowel movements play a roll in how quickly you become comfortable in Korea. In short “it depends” simply meant that every situation was different and that no satisfactory answer could be provided. Looking back I see how such an ambiguous answer preemptively eased tensions about the unknown future that lies ahead. Despite the uncertainties teaching in a foreign country, Korea is real life example of when the idiom “going with the flow” takes on a whole new meaning. With the numerous directions you are drawn as a foreign teacher, it makes me wonder whether a trained parrot or monkey might not be more suited to meet the performance demands.

For starters instead of teaching just middle school English I am teaching all three levels of English in Elementary, Middle, and High School. Because all these levels are different I am responsible for creating lesson plans for each. To accomplish this effectively requires far more teaching experience than I received in from a short one week preparatory training seminar. In University we call that a “Masters of Education” and even graduates of that program struggle to meet the demands of a teaching regiment.

I was also told that there would be a co-teacher present to provide translation as I taught. In my experience this has not always been the case as some teachers look at English class as a break from their regular duties and often sneak out early or doze off when it suits them. On my first day at work I taught two elementary school classes back-to-back with no co-teacher present during the lesson. It required a great deal of improvisation on my part and I had to resort to using physical gestures or drawing on the board to communicate what I wanted the kids to do. Much of the material I had planned had to be scrapped for a game of “duck duck goose” and “paper rock scissors” which some kids caught onto quickly and seemed to enjoy. From that experience my fears of a bumpy start were underestimated in contrast to the train wreck that actually happened.

In addition to the added work load of teaching all three levels with limited support, I am also required to lead a two hour teacher workshop with all the English teachers on Thursday afternoons. What I have been told is that the purpose of this time is to review classroom strategies but there is no real set agenda and it is up to the foreign teacher to structure the discussion. For the Korean teachers who are already burdened with many administration duties, the teacher workshops are just another job requirement wedged into their already taxing schedule.

Having only been notified a day in advance by Mr. Cho that I needed to prepare some materials (short notice tends to be the norm here rather than the rare circumstance), my first teacher workshop was received with less than favourable reception. In total four teachers were present at the workshop including myself. We started with introductions and I learned that two teachers in attendance had 20+ years of working experience. I listened as the men shared with me their lives and interests outside of school. They talked at length about their passion for nature and had helpful suggestions of various sights in Korea that might be of interest to me. Being only 26 myself and in contrast significantly short of life experience, I wondered whether I was in any position to provide consultation on language education.

Following Mr. Cho's advice, I prepare some materials about the Teach English in English (TEE) program scheduled to be implemented across South Korea by March 2012. In short this new policy would ensure that all high school students are taught English in an immersion environment. The requirement to teach in the TEE program is either a TESOL (Teach English for Speakers of Other Languages) certification or a masters degree in a Western university. Essentially this puts foreigners at a huge advantage over Korean nationals to obtain these teaching positions. For any Korean national studying abroad they can waive their required military service if they return and teach English in public school.

If the TEE program sounds ambitious one need only look at the statistics of current Korean English teachers whose language abilities fail to meet the program requirements. A survey in 2005 by the Test of English for International Communication (TOEIC) showed that mere 16.1 percent of teachers “had proficient command of English without any difficulties” - moderate and poor speakers are grouped into that sum of 83.9%. A 2006 survey of 51 English teachers who completed the English Speaking Proficiency Test (ESPT) found that 66 percent had “a general ability to communicate in English but mistakes in grammar and pronunciation often occur”. I've been unable to locate any information outlining the steps the government is taking to accommodate the need for advanced language skills. None of my colleagues could confirm whether the Korean government was at all willing to facilitate the additional training or subsidizing private training that would be needed to bridge the gap in language skills for current Korean English teachers, although I have read else where that some teachers were being offered a subsidy of 450,000 won every three months which is clearly not the practice everywhere. Without bringing along the Hanguel speaking teachers, the requirements for the TEE program would result in the mass recruitment of under-qualified foreign English teachers who would have difficulty co-operate with other teachers due to the inherent language barriers. This lack of an inclusive strategy stands to alienate the many teachers that lack the necessary speaking skills. As one can imagine the TEE program is not the most popular subject among current high school teachers as their job security hangs in the balance.

Teachers in South Korea have not exactly been treated well by the Federal government. Because many teachers live and prefer working in bigger cities like Mokpo, Gwangju, and Seoul, the government made it mandatory that all public teachers change schools once every four years to ensure that the rural areas of Korea do not suffer any discrepancies in the quality of their education. I am uncertain whether there are any provisions set to limit how far a teacher can be placed from their home but I can see why public school teachers are justifiably bitter. Many work years away from your family and friends and endure the inconvenience of commuting back and forth over long distances. I find myself puzzled at how a better compromise could not have been found such as extra pay to attract rural teachers or at least a travel allowance.

With the addition of the TEE program the government is tightening its grip on the pubic education system to further its agenda to mandate English “language skills”. The phrase "language skills" as it is contained in official statements is quite suspect as it denotes a capacity far greater than an understanding of vocabulary or grammatical structure but an ability to express oneself “without any difficulties” in another language. I find it difficult sometimes to speak express myself in English and I've been speaking it my whole life. The expectations made on student English "language skills" on a national level do not fit what is reasonable for any person learning a second language.

Much of the anxiety of English education centres around students ability to perform on the TOEIC (Test of English for International Communication) which most Korean companies and education institutions place high emphasis on. This standardized test of English proficiency focuses on highly specialized business language that is not typically used in a general conversation and differs from the basic language skills taught in public schools. As a result, the students that get the most training in TOEIC vocabulary and test formats are those who come from wealth or middle class families that can afford additional training at private schools called "Hagwons". This has created a gap in the education and job opportunity available to low income families in Korea. Rather than attacking one of the root problems of the inequalities that have resulted from the emphasis on TOEIC, critics claim that the additional pressure placed on students by the proposed “English-only classes... would only deepen social polarization as more and more students would seek private tutoring to cope with class contents.” The move towards immersion solutions like TEE comes from a perceived failure of the public education system to meet the needs of families who are turning to private schools to enhance English training.

The perception today is that in order to participating in the global market, Korea must adopt the culture and language of the West. But I would argue that while English is a dominant force in the global market it does not need to be spoken by every person. In fact we may even see greater results if education catered the languages used in a particular disciple. While the TOEIC is suited for business majors in university, students in other disciplines like the sciences, humanities, or arts have no equivalent measure of competency nor would they have any use for business language. This notion that an education system can measure each student by the same stick needs to be replaced by something that is fosters independent learning. Students who have no interest in going to university or will not enter a field where it could be used should not be subjected to the prejudice of a standardized test like the TOEIC. In many ways keeping Hanguel will help to promote regional industries and innovation that will benefit the cross cultural exchanges made possible by globalization.

The irony that my presence at the teacher workshop was perhaps the most concrete example of this shift in pro-English policy which accommodates the needs of the West by forcing ordinary Koreans to make appropriate concessions. Korea has had a long history of linguistic imperialism. Languages such as Chinese and Japanese were forced upon Koreans in an attempt to absorb them into a growing empire. Hanguel (한글) was created during the Joseon Dynasty in the 15th century to solidify Korea's sovereignty from China and allow for common people to have a form of writing they could use for daily transactions. Up until that point writing and reading were a privilege reserved for aristocrats who could afford the education needed to learn the difficult hanja Chinese characters. In 1910 Korea was placed under the subjugation of a colonial force by their neighbors to the East, Japan. For 35 years a "cultural genocide" took place in Korea that resulted in the altering of "public monuments, including several well-known temples, palaces, scripts, memorials, and statues. Songs and poems originally dedicated to Korean Emperors were re-written to adore the Japanese Emperor." Furthermore, the Japanese operated "Citizen Schools" to spread the propaganda of empire to the youth throughout Korea as it taught Japanese history and language with "a heavy emphasis on moral and political indoctrination". Under Japanese colonial occupation the use of Hanguel was strictly "forbidden in all schools and business." The liberation of Korea in 1945 following WWII and the efforts to reunify the nation were short lived as the country fell into a war between 1950-1953 fueled by Western ideological tensions. And today English signifies yet another intrusion of a colonial force brought against the Korean cultural identity... only this time it is being supported by their own people under the guise of global economic system.

The topic chosen for my first teacher workshop as one can imagine is still a tender wound. In retrospect the sensible thing would have been to avoid it all together. But I wanted my Korean co-teachers to know that I understood what they were going through and the policy that reflects ideology more than it does education. Perhaps what I intended to say only sounded patronizing to a group of men who more than anyone feel the bitterness that the failed education system has produced. I wanted them to be as angry as I was... to do something about the situation through protest. Who was I to give advice, I represented this colonial power. What they saw was an unqualified foreigner teacher bleeding the pockets of Korean tax payers. Despite the differences between this group of unlikely colleagues, we are never justified in excluding the Other. It is the Other that reminds us what it is to"be with" that is the condition of our existence in the world.

A Minor Triumph

Mrs. Young Gyu Kim (Science Teacher | Wearing Green), Mrs. Geum Duk Oh (Home Economics | Wearing Light Blue), and Me.

It has been awhile since I wrote here but it was not due to any shortage of eventful things occurring on a daily basis here in Hwawon, South Korea. Everything from buying something at a store, expressing an emotion, or conveying the meaning of a joke is enormously rewarding when you have a limited command of the language.

As I said there are eventful things happening, some perhaps not as eventful to me as they are to others. I see it in the smile on a child's face attending Elementary school who finally uses a phrase he spent months practicing to introduce himself to a new teacher. I hear it in the story of an elder Middle School teacher who in his 30+ years of English education has not spoken to many foreigners or visited a Western country but who looks forward to traveling in the West when he finally retires. Again, I do not mean to diminish the significance of all these and similar events by leaving them out. I cannot help but leave them out.

May 15th was officially “teacher’s day” in South Korea. The only teacher’s day I've ever known in Canada was a back to school discount sale at Staples in early September. There were no public parades, rousing speeches from public officials, or store closings. Just some rice cake, flowers, and a few hand written letters shared with the faculty in the office. Although I haven't taught many classes yet I am beginning to feel the responsibility that my position holds.

It is sometimes hard to gage what things are important to note when preparing a lesson on a language you have spoken your whole life. English has never been strange to me though I admit I have struggled to learn the nuances of the grammatical laws that I blindly followed. I spoke it without question and it accompanied me unassumingly like a shadow. I never had reason to question my use of English and would not be the same person I am today without it. But it is fascinating just how unfamiliar I’ve become to myself here in Korea and how little language one needs to communicate. Here in Korea I cannot rely on any pre-established meaning nor can I convey meaning through my ostentatious word choices. Everything communicated must be as simple and honest as possible, there is simply no time for any of the usual semantics. No matter how successful I am communicating to others I cannot take credit for these small everyday triumphs rather I owe a debt to those around me who have accommodated and chosen to speak my language.

In particular, the kindness of several individuals in my office, Mrs. Kim, Mr. Lee, Mrs. Lee, Mrs. Oh and Mrs. Jung, have been nothing short of extraordinary. Even now in looking at my list I feel a sense of loss in having grouped them together, as if I could capture fully every significant thing that they or others have done. I digress. Perhaps I can shed light on these individuals and bring a greater sense of what impression they have left on me.

The first person to reach out to me was Mrs. Kim. I would be at a loss without this woman who has been critical to my transition into life in South Korea. Mrs. Kim has done everything for me from help me setup a bank account, cell phone, and even taught me about the bus schedule in Hwawon. While all of those are examples of the type of assistance I received from her, Mrs. Kim does it all with enthusiasm and sense of humour that shine through whether she is speaking English or Hanguel. When other co-teachers turn away if I voice a concern, Mrs. Kim is the only one who is willing to listen. I can tell by her hesitation that she has a lot of anxiety about her ability to speak English but that is why I value her willingness to communicate so much. And I want to stress that Mrs. Kim has offered her assistance without any official obligation or compensation from the school board. She has also tried to get to know me on a personal level by introducing me to her family in Mokpo, and taking me to a Temple service in Hwawon. I can’t possibly ask for more or thank her enough.



Along with Mrs. Kim there is Mrs. Lee, Mrs. Oh, and Mrs. Jung who have collectively designated themselves as my “new moms.” This is a title that I certainly cannot deny them. As a foreigner the state of your dependency on those closest to you is similar to needs of a child. It is others who interpret your meaning through gestures, tone of voice, and other means of non-verbal communication. Mr. Lee and my “new Moms” have been keeping me involved with what is going on in the office. When everyone is sitting down eating watermelon or rice cake in the staff room they will call me over to join in. Or when we are in the lunchroom they always and help me name the food items with correct pronunciation. After I made a comment about how difficult it was to find cheese in Korea, both Mr. Lee and Mrs. Lee went out of there way and brought me a package of processed cheese from the supermarket. While most of my co-workers try to avoid speaking to me, Mr. Lee and my "new Moms" make the effort to say more than just a simple “hello” on a daily basis and are constantly introducing me to new Korean terms while correcting my pronunciation errors. Without their support I would surely have limited engagement with the rest of the teachers in the school and would not have a comfortable environment to learn basic Hanguel.

I stress again that these are a limited number of examples drawn from my personal experiences. Fortunately there are so many examples to note from the range of relationships I have with students, store clerks, and neighbors. As an outside you are always reminded that you are stepping into a pre-established community. The challenge is not to overcome but to become apart of it. As I strolled down the only commercial road of Hwawon, I recognized by my failed attempts to read a store front sign that I was illiterate. It was a humbling moment where all my learned “knowledge” could not save me from the judgment of the things that I didn't know or neglected to learn. My ignorance stared me in the face. It persecuted me. However, despite how incapable I am of reading a bus schedule or understanding the price of an item at a store, I can never forget the debt I owe to all the Others who have made these small things possible. The Others are there before I call upon them. Their being-there present in the world forms the very condition in which any transcendence takes place. While some might hold fast to the absoluteness of self-autonomy, the similarity between all types of communication (whether verbal or body language) is that they are for and directed towards an Other. Without this fundamental relation to Others who are our only audience, language would be nothing but hot air.

At a Staff Party!



Sunny (Main Office Secretary) and Me - Whenever Sunny sees me walking to school she will stop and give me a ride up the hill.



Mr. Jung-Nam Lee (Vice Principle), Mrs. Geum Duk Oh (Home Economics Teacher), and Mrs. Young Gyu Kim (Science Teacher)



Sunny again being playful with the camera.



Mr. Kim (Office Manager), Mrs. Jin Sung Bae (Music Teacher), and Mrs. Kyung Hee Jung (Math Teacher)



A Birthday Party organized by my co-workers.


From Left to Right: Mrs. Kyung Suk Lee (Teacher Assistant) , Mrs.Jin Sung Bae (Music Teacher), Mrs. Young Gyu Kim (Science teacher), Mrs. Geum Duk Oh (Home Economics Teacher), Mrs. Kyung Hee Jung (Math teacher), and Mrs. Myeong Ja Lee (Korean Language Teacher)

Take a Bow

You begin to recognize you are a foreigner at moments when you seem completely out of tune with what is happening around you. When the most common everyday activities become remarkably novel experiences.

Take for example the practice of bowing in South Korea which is used as a sign of courtesy toward another. This week I found that I could not overlook my fascination with bowing as it is the most predominantly used gesture. Koreans will bow when they enter or leave a room (provided people are in it or a statue of Buddha), when they introduce themselves, when they say hello in the street, or even when they want to sell you something. There are two varieties that I've observed: the full torso bow and the less formal head bow.

Moreover, there is, like everything else in Korea, a hierarchal structure to the bowing ritual. Apparently the lower you bow to another person the more respect you are showing. This causes tensions for some Koreans in a way that you would not expect. Contrary to North American hierarchal structure where receiving respect is the sought after ideal, in Korea those who bow the lowest are viewed as the most virtuous so many Koreans will try to out-bow the other.

It would be wrong of me to say that everyone is as enthusiastic about bowing as I am. Just like any tradition there is a range in the level of participation. I can personally note a number of times where I bowed to a stranger only to receive a penetrating stare. As a foreigner you never know for sure if you are being stared at because the other person is just curious about you or if you are doing something that insults them. Rather than having these incidence reflect poorly on my bowing technique, I excuse an unresponsive local as having anti-social tendencies.

Despite a few minor setbacks, I still hold the opinion that bowing is an intriguing phenomenon - specifically what it says about the role of ethics in a Collectivist culture. The Western assumption is that lowering oneself for an Other is to diminished the self as individual. From this perspective ethics is reduced to a choice that begins and ends with the individual rather than the condition of our relationship to the Other. When one bows (i.e. putting the Other above the self) there is both a giving and receiving. It is an exchange that can only happen between two. One bows with the Other.

(This post is enormously indebted to the work of Emmanuel Levinas. If you would like to read more of my writing on him check out my other blog posts here)

Arrival in Hwawon: The Many Faces of Korea

I arrived today at the city and school I will be teaching for the next year Hwawon Middle/High School. The city of Hwawon is in the county of Haenam and is a 30 minutes drive from the major port city Mokpo. The city is fairly small with a modest variety of shops and restaurants. Nearly all the families here farm for their income and transport their produce to feed the hungry neighbouring markets. The houses here are small bungles with either a garden or cages for live stock such as pig, goat, and deer. To my knowledge I am the only native English speaker in the town of Hwawon although there is apparently many in Mokpo and Haenam city.

Before arriving here I attended the closing ceremony of my one week training session in Gwangju city where our regional director once again made a startling admission to the audience. He said that Koreans are guilty of expecting foreigners to be "Caucasian” and urged the school principles and teaching assistants in attendance to be open and avoid prejudicial views. Following this speech the English teachers were paired with the representatives of their new school. Unfortunately due to some miscommunication my teaching assistant and principle did not attend the closing ceremony so I accompanied the Haenam regional director to Haenam city where I was introduced to Mr. Cho who is one of the many teachers I will be working with.

Mr. Cho is a substitute teacher from Mokpo city who teaches Middle School English in Hwawon and like many of the teachers he commutes daily to the small rural community to work. Mr. Cho's comprehension of Enlgish is pretty impressive when spoken to at a comfortable pace but when he speaks his sentences are sometimes fragmented or lack the correct suffix. Overall there were barriers hindering our communication. When I asked Mr. Cho in the car what there was to do in Hwanam, he simply smiled and said with a quick staccato “sight see”.

Our first day was spent in the city of Mokpo where I received a comprehensive medical exam at the city hospital which is needed for my alien registration card (ARC) that will substitute my passport for identification. Afterwards we went shopping in Mokpo where I bought groceries and household items for my apartment at a three story department store called Lotte Mart, which is the equivalent of Wal-mart in South Korea. The ales of the store were often lined with more sales attendants than customers and each politely bowed as you walked by saying “Ka-sa-ham-nee-da” or in English “thank you”. Playing over the intercom system were hot and sexy American pop tunes from the likes of Ciara and Britany Spears. The in-store advertisements featured skinny Korean models with thin faces, wide eyes, and pale skin. If I didn't know better I could have sworn that I was still in North America.

When you turn on a T.V or pass a trendy clothing store, it is unmistakably obvious that American culture is a prominent feature of modern South Korea. It is so common place that almost all electronic devices, street signs, and vehicle have English labels in place of or next to Korean Hangeul despite only a small minority of the population speak the language. But while this cultural curiosity might be viewed as an innocent indulgence or a compromise to accommodate foreigners, it does have its uglier side. Western homogenization in Korea has not simply been the adoption of language but also its aesthetics.

In cosmetic print ad, T.V show, or department store check out counter, the Western practice of extending white privilege maintains its hierarchal status. Not only are there Caucasian whites featured prominently but there is the widespread use of light skinned Koreans to mimic the Western aesthetic. What is startling is that as a foreigner one gets exposure to the range of Korean skin tones like the “sandy” and “bronze” shades that are underrepresented in the media and tourist publications. It is this same “idealized” white man and woman that has been reproduced, distributed, and sold to Koreans and Americans alike. White is apparently the image of consumerism everywhere.

When I asked one of my co-teacher, Mr. Cho, whether light skinned Koreans received better treatment than those of dark skin, he simply repeated my question and said nothing in response. I chose not to push the matter further as it may have been a sensitive issue for him as a dark skin Korean male. Maybe he is not the only one to remain silent about the matter? Here in lies the danger and denial of the diversity that persist within the walls of Korea. As American culture continues to permeating everywhere, so too will the spread of its race dynamics even with a culture that is largely of the same ethnicity. According to survey conducted by Synovate "in Hong Kong, Malaysia, the Philippines, South Korea and Taiwan, 4 of every 10 women use a whitening cream." With Asian countries all adopting this aesthetic perhaps it is not so much of a secrete anymore? Does the absence of people of color in Korea media attests to how successful Western culture has been maintaining social inequality? Or is this something indiginous to Korean culture?

Visit to Suncheon, South Korea - Tourism and Simulacra

During my orientation week in Gwuangju I went on a field trip with Canadian Connections to the Nakan-eupseong folk village and the Seonamsa temple. Both sites were extremely scenic showcasing the splendor of rural South Korea and its immense historical heritage. But throughout the excursion to the village and temple I was constantly drawn towards the juxtaposition of modernity and tradition which characterizes many of the broader features of South Korean culture.

One gets the sense of this juxtaposition when strolling along Nakan-eupseong's many dirt roads and seeing the vendors on either side selling souvenirs and beverages from the same stone houses their ancestors once occupied. While many of the attendants who collect the tickets and sell the souvenirs live in these stone houses, their daily lives have changed from a concern about agricultural to one concerned with sustaining a viable tourist industry. The major attraction at the village is a 1.41 km long and 4m high protective wall that was original made of sand and built to guard against the threat of the invading Japanese army in 1397. The wall was rebuilt in stone some 300 years later. Today that same wall which was intended to keep foreigners out is the same thing that draws them in.

In addition to the wall there are numerous exhibits scattered throughout the village in workshops, sanctuaries, and court yards. These exhibits all have plaques beside each designated area supplying the relevant historical background. But in place of the villagers of the town there are posed ceramic statues recreating a familiar scene like a priest uttering a prayer or a prisoner receiving a sentenced... forever frozen in time for the next photo op. According to the leaflet I received, Nakan-eupseong "remains just as it was hundreds of years ago."


(Jonah Saifer, Shari Beaver, and Myself - two teachers I met during orientation but who may not share the opinions expressed here)

The Seonamsa temple was a different sort of attraction that was much like visiting a historic church in North America or Europe. On the day we were on the temple grounds there were a number of offerings being made by a group of female spiritual leaders in the weeks approaching the celebration of Buddha’s birthday. Along the path to the temple entrance there were the familiar vendors selling souvenirs but none were actually in the temple. The rampant consumerism that characterized the Nakan-eupseong village was not at all the impression I had of the Seonamsa temple, rather it has remained a place of worship and a sacred ground revered by its patrons.

There were no pictures allowed inside the temple buildings but tourists were not discouraged from entering. Wandering into one of the main temples I spent a long time examining the elaborately painted wall murals, the decorative yellow, red, and turquoise green ceiling beams, the numerous lotus lamps hung from the ceiling, and the three enormous gold statues of Buddha placed on the center altar. Before I knew it there was a sudden rush of women filing into the temple. Within two minutes I was packed in tightly and could not easily get out without forcing a wave of bodies to move around me. A bell was rung and all those present in the room began to bow ten or more times consecutively. They went from standing, to kneeling, to leaning forward, and resting their head against their forearms laid flat against the ground. Silence filled the room as the bowing ceased and the women stood with their palms pressed together in a more familiar prayer gesture. The aroma of incense thickened the air as the women began to chant and pray in unison creating hypnotic melody with their voices. Reflecting on my experience in the Seonamsa temple, I felt as though I had intruded on a moment - treading on the tradition that resonated in that room. Once the procession was over and I could final part from the crowd, I asked one of the Korean guides "was it right for me to be present in the temple during the ceremony?". He smiled and said "you shouldn't have been there but it was an innocent offense like a child talking out during a church service. You didn't know any better."

The Nakan-eupseong village and the Seonamsa temple illustrate the shared interest to include a dialogue with the past. This strange blend of tradition and modern exhibitionism takes place throughout South Korea and reflects a cultural identity that is oriented towards preservation. However, this is not to say that this closeness to its past is merely aesthetic or in complete isolation from the outside world. We in the West often think of Asian culture as static and unchanging in their tributes to the past. They are characterized as a people with a transfixed orientation to myth/legend who have failed to "properly" adopt Western language and culture. Perhaps we are the ones duped by the promise of an authentic Orient formed in the interpretation of its art and cultural relics? The reality is that South Korea and other Asian cultures adapt to change at a rapid pace through their capacity for synthesis. As changes inevitably occur throughout the course of history, these cultures have managed to last for centuries because their model of change is one that continues to resemble itself and does not merely substitute past for future. In South Korea there is the sense that despite the expectations for the future it must honor the remains of its past. It is life in ruins.


Nakan-eupseong (castle) folk village










Seonamsa (temple)

Arrival in Korea: Stepping Out

After a gruelling 24hr travelling experience that included a 13 ½ hr flight, a 6 hr layover, and two 1hr shuttle buses, I finally arrived at Gwangju, South Korea, my home for the next week. Here we are going through the training course for the Jeollanamdo school board - learning bits of Korean language and how to manage the classroom. Apparently this is not the norm for teachers in Korea as some school boards throw you right into classes without any time to decompress. The other teachers here come from all over the world and represent a wide range of age groups, genders, and academic backgrounds. Despite the differences everyone here seems to thirst for adventure of some sort. You could say that the first prerequisite of the job is being able to step on a plane and leave everyone and everything you know behind.

Education is a big deal in Korea and English is a compulsory subject. It is amazing to read the history of this place! In less than thirty years Korea has emerged from a fairly impoverished nation to become one of the most industrial nations on the planet. On the scale of global development Korea is the equivalent of an overnight success. This is a high-tech fast paced country which exports everything from Samsung electronics, Hyundia cars, to various pharmaceuticals. They see the ability to speak English, the language of international commerce, as a key component of securing their future growth and prosperity. English is not only important on a national but also an individual level. In Korea, English is one component of the national exam that will determine what university a child will go to upon graduating high school. For many parents, investing in their children's education will secure their retirement because Koreans do not typically place the elderly in a retirement home. So needless to say there is a lot riding on the subject of English for the average Korean.

I make mention of this all as a way of explaining what has brought me here – it is to say that I am not here due to anything that I have done. Although I stepped on a plane and signed a contract, none of this would have happened if there wasn't already this demand for native English speakers. In the opening ceremony speech, our regional manager confessed to an audience of new teachers that “English is a powerful language”. This comment although not intended with any malice was an accusation that pointed directly at me. Prior to this I had never thought of the privilege I had as an English speaker, but here I was preparing to give lessons on an imperialist language that has disempowered indigenous populations throughout Asia and the world over. It is a language that homogenizes within a culture and adapts to the differences in local dialects. It is a language that extends rights an privileges along a hierarchy. Again, it is the language of imperialism.

I began to resent the privilege I had received and never asked for; but as offensive and unjustified as my privilege is I have been given an opportunity to teach not because of who I am but because of what English represents to the future of individuals, families, and communities in Korea. While the world holds English above all other languages, equality is an impossibility not because of its dominance but because our differences persist despite external limitations. Maybe we in the West can help by stepping out of our privilege to find some common ground between the “us” and “them” paradigm?

After spending only a few days in Korea, the locals that I had a chance to interact with showed incredible patience, generosity, and understanding. On a number of occasions I had to explain that I was a vegetarian – repeating again and again the only English words they seemed to respond to like “vegetable” and “no" "meat/beef/pork”. I couldn't help but think had roles been reversed and they were the foreigner in North America would they have received the same compassion? Would there be anyone who understood the Korean term for vegetable? Not likely. Foreigners brave enough to venture to the West are simply expected to speak the language fluently and are blamed if they fall short of this expectation. I'm grateful for my experience so far and the Koreans I have had a chance to interact with but this is not the standard everywhere. Within a week I'll be headed to Haenam which is said to have a very limited number of English speakers. For any foreigner, living in rural South Korea is both a compromising alienation and a step out farther from their comfort zone.